The Art of Healing
by MaybeInTheFuture
Summary: Bella hasn't been the same since Edward left, but she has her friends and a therapist to guide her. With music being the only escape, how will Bella continue? And, if Edward does return, how can they ever heal either?
1. Promises

**Hello! This is a brand new story so if you were looking for A New Light, it's been on hiatus, but I'm working on finishing it. I have a horrible habit of only writing when I'm bored or down and now I'm very good and can focus on some writing. I want this to be a brand new take on how I've been seeing Twilight, even though it does take place right after the beginning of New Moon and Edward has left. I want some input because the ending hasn't been drawn out yet, but the rest has. I'm excited to have it more interactive, so comments will be viewed all the time as I am writing the following chapters. The more input I get, the better the story may be to those who really read it. **

**If you have read A New Light, I am thankful for your continued love for it. The end will be up soon and I am so apologetic towards those who have been reading it. Right now, this story is flowing and I have several chapters already written and being edited. I can't wait for you guys to enjoy this summer with me. **

**Stephanie Meyers owns all things except this weird plot I've tried to create. Enjoy. **

**The Art of Healing. Chapter One. Promises. **

I didn't know that time moved so slowly until I sat and watched it. In those happy moments, the ones that blind us from knowing that there is anything called time, there never seems to be enough of it to go around. I've assumed that life would always be a fight between those moments. There would always be the good that came with the bad, but now I know that there is something so much worse than that.

There's barely existing.

It's been three months and five days since breathing was easy. I wish I could go back, just for a moment, and remember what it was like to actually take a deep breath that wasn't painful. I am something I never thought I would be. It's in these moments, hands to my chest, voice crying out to wake my father in the dead of the night that I wish I were different. I wish I was sane. I wish I was the girl that everyone assumed I would be before _him._

Edward left. It's a phrase I'm slowly working up saying. I don't know how to answer people when they ask why I can't move on like a normal breakup. I want to blame it all on the fact that he was so different than anything most humans would ever know. He was something otherworldly, yet temporarily mine. I let myself believe that he was mine. I should have known that I was his most temporary moment, one that he may forget now that the world is back into his hands. His only enemy was the sun. He could have anything else he ever wanted.

I made it the best way that I could. I functioned. I went to school and did the things that I had always done. I made dinner, cleaned up after the house, and even still did laundry on saturdays. In the back of my head, I knew that I would have to get a job soon so that I would have some purpose to get out of bed once high school came to an end, but I wasn't ready. Charlie didn't push too much, but I could see it in the way that he sometimes tapped his chin while watching me after he got home from work. He was trying to figure me out, or what he could do until I figured myself out. I was a mystery to the both of us. And I didn't know how to help.

Renee kept her distance, only really checking in on occasion. Growing up, her pining over men had become something that I was used to. Phil had been the only real concrete man in her life since my dad and I left when they really got rolling. She didn't know what to say when the faults that were appearing in me were not from Charlie like they used to be, but from her. Charlie knew this too but didn't have the heart to vocalize it. When the nights were too bad or things were getting rough, he would mutter about me coming to live with him sooner or more often. I can't say that would have changed anything. With two parents happily together, Edward leaving would have shot a hole clear through my chest. None of us had a thing to do with it.

Today was the last day of school before winter break. I knew that without the habit of homework after school that things would start being more strained in the house. Charlie would start looking at me funny as I tried to drown myself in blankets or books to keep from reality. I had always been consumed by books, but lately, I stayed on the same page for a week trying to have the willpower to just move the page over. I didn't want to read the ending of anything. Acknowledging that all events and stories end made it hard for me to concentrate. Everything led back to him even if I didn't mean for it to. I was becoming lost in my own mind.

As the final bell rang for school to be let out, I slowly made my way to the parking lot. It had snowed the entire week but today and the layers of snow made the world look like a white wonderland. Everyone was laughing or having a good time, but I just couldn't bring myself to join in. I was never all that good at jumping into things, but now I felt like my body was not even my own. The few friends that I had managed to have over the time that I had been there now faded away. They didn't want to be around someone like me and I didn't blame them. I didn't want to be around me.

I got to my truck and started it. As I felt the old rumble of the heaping piece of metal, I started out into the icy parking lot. I could remember the moment when the ice had gotten the best out of another car, coming towards me before I would even have time to react. And then he was there. Even after all the times that he told me that saving me was the best decision that he could have made, I couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way now. Miles away, or even planets away for all I knew, but I couldn't imagine he would appear if a car came sliding towards me now. The thought triggered the very few thoughts that slipped into my head when the night got too dark or the dreams felt too real. I shook the thought away, trying to bring myself back to where I was.

A sudden knock on my window made me jump back into life. Looking out my driver's window was Charlie, standing there with the same worried face that I had seen so many times before. I glanced around, realizing that my moment remembering turned into a larger span of time as every car was gone but a few teachers and Charlie's. I sighed, rolling down my window.

"Alright, Bell. We really need to talk," He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow at me.

I tried to respond but my throat was dry from lack of talking and I coughed over the few words I was about to say. He nodded and pointed to his car, "Follow me home."

I did, watching his eyes flash back and forth to make sure I was behind him the whole time. As much as I understood the concern, I had never run away before except the one time with him to get myself to safety. Even then I had told him I was leaving, though in a horrible way. The memory made me wince and I felt the weight of everything that I had done to him. I really was a terrible daughter.

The one thing about Charlie and I was that we were never the best at conversation. We both stuttered around the basic points that would cause tension and ended up making a situation last way longer than needed. When we got home, I began working on dinner and he sat at the table to watch me. He then stood up and began pacing. I could almost hear the wheels of his brain turning, about to say whatever it was that he wanted to say. I could guess what they were. I wasn't stupid.

"Bella, I think that we should consider you moving back home with your mother," He blurted out, causing me to drop the pasta noodles onto the floor, "Oh, damn Bells, I'm sorry."

I turned to face him, ignoring the mess on the ground, "You want me to move to Florida?"

"Well, no," He rubbed his forehead, groaning, "Bells, you know I don't want you to go back. I love having you here but this behavior. I mean, you stared into space for more than an hour after school ended. You didn't notice anyone trying to catch your attention until I went and banged on the door. I'm just concerned for you. This isn't healthy."

"Dad, I'm working on it. I'm going to be fine," I turned back to grab a towel and a back to pick up the garbage pasta, "But I'm not moving back to Florida. Renee wouldn't have a clue what to do for me."

"Bells, you are hardly the girl that I knew a few months ago. Now, I've been patient but I need to see something of improvement here,"

"It's only been three months,"

"And you're eighteen! You should be living and doing things that are exciting. You'll be graduating in a few months and I haven't heard you talk about college at all since he left,"

"My plans have changed,"

"You're going to college,"

I turned around and yelled, "I just need time. I don't know what I'm doing, Charlie. I wish I wasn't like this but this is what's happening. So, I am sorry that what I am doing is worrying you, but I'm just as lost in my own body as you are with me in the house. There is a lot of things that I don't know how to do and this is one of them. I just need time."

He watched me for a moment before slowly taking a seat at the table. He looked older and I felt the blame. I must have aged him in all of my troubles, "Bells, that's the most emotion other than sadness that I've seen out of you in three months."

I stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

"Bella, I'll let you stay. But it'll be a compromise that I am not willing to argue about," Charlie's face had never looked so serious.

"What is it?"

"For starters," He cleared his throat and leaned back, "I want you to see a therapist. I know that there is a stigma with that sort of stuff but I think you really need to get some of this out. You can't keep screaming in that pillow or staring into space. I need to see you start living again. And secondly, I need you to start being alive with your friends. Call up Angie or whatever her name is and invite her over. Or go see Jacob. I just need to see you doing something. We'll work in school and college as we get closer to the big graduation day but I am calling to set up your appointment Monday. This needs to get moving."

I didn't want to see a therapist. I didn't want to have to try to talk about it. What was I even going to say about the man that was a vampire? They would assume that I was like any other teenage girl who thought that she had been in love with someone special. They wouldn't understand and I didn't know how to tell anyone what I was feeling. I was hardy honest with myself about what I was feeling.

However, I was not going to move to Florida. Even though I hated myself for thinking it, I knew that Edward would not be able to come easily to Florida. He may never come back and he wouldn't, but if there was the smallest chance that his family would come for a visit; I wasn't leaving. So, I looked Charlie in the eyes and nodded.

"Okay," He turned and walked towards the living room.

I gently sat down on the edge of one of the chairs, unsure where to put my thoughts or how to articulate them. What was I going to say to anyone? The thought made my skin nearly crawl but I had to hold onto something from completely losing my mind. If this made Charlie okay with me staying, then I would do it. It meant that I had to act the part, to do what I could to make people believe that I was improving even if I never truly thought I would. I would do what they told me and I would just continue until Charlie felt satisfied with what I was doing. Maybe Renee would even become comfortable. I didn't know what else to do. I felt lost.

At first, I thought that Charlie would forget about his compromise after the school semester took its break and I was home to do more things. The holidays meant that he would be busier, outworking the regular shifts plus additional ones. However, he must have pulled something because he was around more than usual. He watched me like a hawk, even when I was just reading. His eyes would follow me around, seeming to make sure I didn't vanish before my next step. I tried to ignore it, but I knew my time would be running low if I didn't try to make a movement towards being okay.

As the following week came, Charlie had a sticky note on the fridge when he went to work. I would have an appointment the next Thursday at noon. I had to stay for an hour and then the therapist would see how often they wanted me in. The thought of going regularly made me feel like a case study, but it made everyone happy. Keeping my eyes shut, I grabbed the sticky note and moved to grab another book to read to blend the hours. I decided to use the sticky note as a bookmark, but then I realized another one was attached to the back. Flipping it over, there was another one that had a reminder on it as well, "Do something with someone today. Please."

I fought back a groan. Who could I even hang out with anymore? There were certain bridges that just couldn't be repaired over the phone and would take too much energy to try and fix. Grabbing the phone that had hardly been touched over the last three months, I shifted through the contacts that I still had. I ignored the names of the people that made the hole in my chest feel like it was slicing open. Closing my eyes, I couldn't help but wince at their names still there. I took a chance and hit call on the first one that was not one of "their" names.

The phone rang before a deeper voice than I was expecting answered, "Hello?"

"Hello?" I questioned, looking back to see if I had really dialed "Jacob".

"Bella? Is that you?" He sounded surprised but instantly excited. I wasn't used to responding to such emotion for a while. Not since Alice, who was always attached to live wire.

"Yeah, it is. Hey, Jake," I leaned back, trying to remember how to actually communicate. It had been a while.

"Hey! How have you been? I haven't heard from you for a while," He sounded like he dropped something, swearing in the background which brought a small smile to my face. At least I was not the only clumsy one in a ten-mile radius.

"I've been...yeah, school and stuff. You know. But how are you? What have you been up to?" I began to pick nervously at my nail. It had been so long since I casually walking into a conversation with anyone.

"School's a drag but it's that winter bug. Can't wait for summer or at least spring. But hey, at least it's winter break and stuff so that's been sweet. Been thinking of working on some motorbikes once the good weather comes. What are you up to?" Thank goodness he was talking more than I seemed to be able to.

"I'm just hanging. Reading some stuff. I was wondering if you were doing anything today? Just wanted to have a friendly person sit next to you and read while you are doing whatever it is that you are doing?" I heard him chuckle on the other end and i felt myself redden from how stupid I started to sound.

"Actually, it is probably time to take a good look at the truck again. Why don't you bring it over and you can read while I check everything over? I promise, the garage is heated," He made it sound easy so I stood up, tucking the book under my arm.

"I'll be there soon," And so, I began to keep my promise. One step at a time.


	2. Something Natural

**Hello again! So, updates will not always be this frequent but I wanted to get a good bases out there for those who are showing interest. Due to some messages, I would like to clarify that this will have both Edward and Jacob in the mix. I am open to input for those who read the story along the way and would like to take that into consideration for how I believe the ending will play out. However, we are still very, very early, so we'll take it one step at a time.**

**So please review! It keeps me motivated.**

**Enjoy.**

**The Art of Healing. Chapter Two. Something Natural. **

The time with Jake was good and natural. It felt normal for the first time in a while. He didn't look at me in a weird way that a lot of people had began to do or ask questions. He just worked in the corner, gradually going over my truck as I got lost in the book. He played good music, nothing too romantic or pop related. And the afternoon had passed nicely, both of us content with the silence. It was comforting. The ache in my chest became a dull pain in the bottom of my mind, letting me getting lost in the book become less of a distraction and more of a comfort.

After so long, Billy came rolling into the garage. He seemed surprised at the sight in front of him, Jacob's head in the truck, laughing at something stupid that was said on the radio. He talked to himself, letting me comment if I wanted to but no necessarily having to. I happened to have responded and we were both laughing at the idiotic comments that the man was saying and we couldn't help but wonder if he knew he was really on air. Billy, eyes wide, glanced over at me curled up under a blanket in the large chair in the corner by the heaters. It must have looked odd since I had never been in the garage unless Charlie had planned a dinner and I had usually stayed at home.

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted pizza, but I didn't know both of you were out here. Bells, would you like to have dinner here?" He asked, his face softening as he saw his son's face and mine.

"Oh," I glanced down at my phone and saw that the hours had slipped by without my realizing, "Oh, you don't have to feed me. I can get going. I'm sure my dad will be home soon."

"Well, why don't I give Charlie a call. Make him pick up the damn pizza. How's that sound?" He asked. Jake and I shared a glance and then nodded, happy to continue into the evening.

"I'll get to that," He wheeled out and Jacob chuckled as the door closed.

I gave him a funny look, "What?"

"He's probably feeling real old. Seeing us out here, me working on his truck while you just sit there reading. He probably doesn't remember a time where we weren't fighting or getting each other in trouble when we were younger and he didn't even notice us here. He's been feeling aged lately," He dropped a wrench on to the ground before going back to the toolbox.

"Ahh," I laughed, closing my book and laying it on my lap, "You mean he's still expecting us to find a can of paint and start throwing it at each other?"

"Most likely," Jacob laughed before squatting down.

"You know, the more time you spend working on it, the more I am convinced you are trying to make sure it never runs again," I pointed out.

"Hey, I worked too hard on this in the beginning to not give it love now and then. We spent a long time in this garage before you got it,"

"Did I come between you and truck? Should I leave you two alone?"

"She knows all my deepest secrets and I just gave her to you. Think of how trustworthy I consider you if I gave you my girl,"

"What makes you think it's a girl?"

"It's a girl."

"It is not,"

"You don't know her like I do,"

"You make it sound like a relationship," I laughed, his eyes brightening up with the sound. We both stayed like that, laughing at the truck and who she/he loved the most. We lost track of time again and before I knew it, I caught a glimpse of Charlie and Billy in the doorway.

"Hey, kids. Getting into trouble?" Charlie asked, walking in with a smile wiggling his mustache. His eyes were wide and I realized just how long it may have been for him to go without really seeing me laugh. Jacob popped up from his crouched position with a smile.

"Hey Charlie, how are you?" He walked up and gave a small hug to him, Charlie smiling at the kid. He always felt like Jacob might as well have been his nephew.

"Oh, you know. Prepping for the winter and the people who forget to drive even though it is practically the same every year," he sighed, shaking his head, "But what have you guys been up to all day?"

"Oh, well catching up on the music and books," Jake motioned over at my book, which I hadn't moved the pages in hours, "Checking on the truck to make sure it's right for winter over the next few months. Planning some stuff to do over the next few weeks while break is here."

"For the next few weeks, huh?" Charlie glanced up at me as if he needed my confirmation. I couldn't help but smile over at him and give a nod. His mustache twitched as his smile began to grow across his face but he tried to hide it by turning towards the door, "Oh, the pizza is here, in case my presence didn't give that away."

"Let's go," Jake pulled me out of the chair and into the house behind him. The rest of the evening passed quickly, Charlie agreeing to drive me home so that Jacob could work on the truck while I slept. Billy and Charlie seemed to have quiet conversations most of the night while Jake and I continued to catch up. I was surprised by how easy it was to talk to him and I regretted on neglecting the friendship this whole time. I couldn't remember why I hadn't spent more time with him once I moved here. It seemed irrational to consider him so much younger than me.

On the way back to the house, Charlie looked over at me. I kept quiet, not wanting to draw any more conversation out of myself. Unfortunately, being so out of practice at talking had made me exhausted and missing my pillow. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before looking over and muttering, "Hey, I'm glad you tried today."

I gave him a small smile and nodded, "Surprisingly, me too."

The therapist office was cold and weird. I felt uncomfortable about just being there. It had been a week since Charlie started to see progress and I had assumed that going to see Jake would have deterred him from sending me to a therapist. Sadly, the nightmares that had been happening made him convinced that going to this would be the only solution to my weird mental state. As much as it would have been nice for the nightmares to end, I couldn't bring myself to believe this would help. There were still secrets I had to keep even if no one would really believe me at this point.

I was sitting in the waiting room still, watching the receptionist work on the paperwork that I had just filled out. There was a lot of questions, many that I wasn't sure how to answer. Did I have trouble getting out of bed? Was I constantly feeling a dark cloud above my head? Did I have motivation to do my daily activities? The questions were all leading to something that would probably convince me that I was going to need medication, but I didn't. Eventually, whether I wanted to admit it or not, I would try my best to just exist.

"Ms. Swan," She called me and I jumped up, thankful that I was the only on in the office who was there. She pointed me through the door and I walked through, walking down a small hallways that was drenched in purple. At the end was a large, brown door. It felt like a scene from a bad movie where the girl walks through a door and is suddenly killed. I put that thought aside and continued to the door, knocking gently once I reached it.

"Come in," A clear, feminine voice echoed out and I walked in, taking in my surroundings as soon as I did. The woman sitting behind a small table was tiny, maybe in her mid thirties and her hair in a tight long braid falling down her shoulders. She looked incredibly young for someone who was meant to help people solve all of their problems. There was a large part of me that wanted to consider everything that I was doing a joke as I went to sit in the chair that she was beckoning me towards, but I hadn't realized how much hanging out with Jake was going to make the days of winter a little better. Maybe this would too.

Before that thought could sit too long inside my head, I shook it away before sitting down. The woman was dressed in a blue blouse and black pants, her feet snug in heels and her confidence endless. She looked at me through her thick eyeliner that looked expertly put on as I took a seat at the table. She smiled softly at me, looking down briefly at a clipboard that was on her desk and the book that was next to her.

"So, I see you prefer to be called Bella," She began, glancing up at me to confirm which I nodded, "Okay, good. Beautiful name. Why don't we start about talking about why you are here today."

I cleared my throat, unsure how to word anything, "My dad wants me to talk to someone. And I don't want him to worry that much about me so I am here."

"Right," She agreed before laughing abruptly, "Oh my goodness, I have to apologize. I didn't even properly introduce myself. My name is Cynthia Yales. You can call me whatever it is that makes you comfortable. I've been doing this for the better part of the last ten years."

"Hi," I responded, feeling how awkward my mind was making the room feel, even though she was trying really hard to make it welcoming.

"So, your dad wants you to be here. Do you want to be here?" She looked at me intensely and I had to sit up a little bit to even feel remotely comfortable.

I tried to look at her but I glanced down at my boots that had done nothing to fight against the cold this morning, "I see why he wants me here. I know I haven't been...myself?" I could feel her eyes burning into my head and it made the words that I thought I could express get caught in my throat as I continued to croak, "I want to make him happy. That's why I am here."

"Do you want to be happy?" The question was heavy and made my chest ache.

I bit my lip, trying to find a good response, "I want to be, in a way, at some point."

"Alright, I'm just going to ask a series of questions. Today is a sort of introduction to our conversations so it's basically me getting to know you and some of them may be hard for you. If something that I ask is too much for today, I do ask you to respond with pass. We will come back to it later or another day when we feel we have reached that point. Are you ready?" She pulled her clipboard towards her chest and I felt like I was on the other side of a rapid fire game show that I didn't know that I signed up for.

"Yes," I agreed and felt the game show music take off in the back of my head as Cynthia began.

"Do you like living where you live?"

"Yes,"

"Do you get along with your father, which is who you live with,"

"Yes, I do,"

"How is your relationship with your mother?"

"Distant, but good,"

"Why did you move to Forks in the middle of high school?"

"It was what was best for my mom and me. It worked out for everyone,"

"Did you do it for yourself?"

I thought for a second and wondered why she was leaning towards the issues with my parents, a problem that I had long since moved on from, "At first, no. My mom sacrificed a lot for me her whole life and it felt like the time was coming for me to do the same."

She nodded, writing something down before continuing, "Are you preparing for your future? Career-related or college-related?"

"I'm going to start working on that soon,"

"What's stopping you?"

"I didn't really plan this far ahead for a while. I'm catching up with everything,"

"What made you stop?"

"I lost something close to me,"

"A friend?"

"Yes,"

"Someone more than a friend?"

My throat closed immediately, not letting a word out as the pain in my chest roared its ugly head. I gripped onto the arms of the chair, not wanting to make a peep of anything that would make her look too deeply at my reaction. Smashing my lips together, I tried to casually say, "Pass."

"Do you not want to talk about him? And what happened?" She was now watching me, obviously taking in my reaction which I know would not get me any further from this office than I had originally hoped to do.

"Not today," I whispered, trying to make some sort of compromise without explicitly stating it.

"Okay," She agreed easily and moved to turn the page, revealing more questions. I wanted to hide under the chair or just leave. I didn't want to be here at all, "Do you find it hard to be happy some days?"

"I guess, when it's cloudy," I thought about how those used to be my favorite days because he would be going to school and so would the family. I tried to put away that thought. I didn't want it there. I didn't want him there.

"What makes you happy?"

"Reading is nice. On the nicer days, I try to go outside. Get some sunlight and read,"

"That sounds very nice. Now, who are your closest friends?"

I didn't even stutter, "Jacob."

"Jacob? Who is Jacob?"

"He's my childhood friend. His dad and my dad have been friends forever, so it's like a friendship that was destined before we had a say. It's easy. Natural,"

"Do you have any other friends besides Jacob?"

"Lately? No,"

"And before?"

I closed my eyes, feeling another pinch of pain that I didn't like to look at. The good news was, I could at least say her name out-loud,"Yes, I had a very good friend. Her name was Alice."

"Alice. Are you two not friends anymore?"

"She's gone,"

"Did she move away?"

"Yes,"

"Have you two lost connection since she moved?"

"I never got to say goodbye...she never said goodbye," I whispered, looking down at my hands that were pale and dry. Alice would have a fit about my skin care, declaring a shopping trip for lotion that would turn into me having a bunch of new clothing. I had hated those moments, when she spent money on me. Now, I would like to stick my hands in front of her just to have her notice and drag me anywhere. Just to be with my best friend again.

"How has that made you feel?" Cynthia's voice softened and I sighed, not knowing how to word any of the emotions that had been in my body the last few months. If I did, I had a gut feeling that she would roll her eyes and tell me to grow up, to let go. She would think that I was exaggerating everything and that I was one of the stupid teenagers that no one like at all. My stomach was in knots.

"It's...it sucks. I...I try to understand it and I want to make it believable to you, but it's...it's a pass for now," I stuttered before leaning back in my chair, hating my answer.

"What do you want to make believable to me, if I may ask?" She leaned forward, setting down the pen and looking intently at me.

"How I feel," I kept looking down, avoiding her gaze.

"Why wouldn't it be believable?"

"It's a lot," I looked at her and for the first moment, she seemed taken aback by my truth. There wasn't a lie in sight. The feeling I had, the elephant that loved to be on my chest, the nightmares that came to remind me of everything that I lost, and God, the feeling of loss. The true, undeniable presence of loss. It made breathing hard.

"Okay, we'll get there," She put her hands on the table, "Listen, Bella. I know that you are feeling a lot right now and sometimes words are hard to really get out, especially to someone that you hardly know. I completely understand. I am here to get there with you, however you want to get there. Today, we will keep it short and sweet and try to get more to the root of everything. I think you like to keep things bottled. You like to be there for others and that has left you more open to hurt that other people haven't. That's a lot to carry.

"I want to just give you a small assignment. Maybe, between now and thursday, try to write some stuff down about how you are feeling. It doesn't have to be poetry or songs or just random words that seem to feel right. Just try your best to get down what feels right and we will go over what you write down and maybe just talk, how's that sound?" She seemed to actually be ending the session already and I was surprised to see that through all my stuttering and awkwardness that a whole hour had gone by quickly.

"Sounds good," I agreed, grabbing my small bag off the floor.

"Do you have any questions?" She asked before I could stand up. I shook my head, shaking her hand and heading towards the door before stopping. I had a question, one that I didn't know if I would be able to ask but one that I wanted to ask everyone that I had every seen hurt.

"Actually," I turned around to face her, standing in the doorway. She leaned back on the table, arms crossed and waiting for whatever it is that I was going to say. I felt my palms grow with sweat, "Do people come back from stuff? Really? Even...unusual circumstances?"

Her face was soft and she tilted her head to the side, nodding softly, "Healing is a lot of work. Many people expect a few days to pass and feel better. Sometimes, it's years. Hearts and emotions and brains are very easy to break, it's hard to make them strong."

I nodded. Then, turned and walked out.

Later, I kept staring at a notebook in my lap as I listened to Charlie watch the baseball game. I didn't know who was playing, but my eyes kept going to the screen as I tried to avoid my therapist's homework for me. I didn't have any words in me right now. I had often remembered many people mentioning how the English language lacked in certain areas; that our language was more business oriented rather than romantic. Not that what I was aiming to express was romantic, but my words fell short of the target. There was not a good way to describe it.

Hopeless. Lost. Topaz. Marked. Wordless farewell. Eighteen. Birthday. Whatever is the opposite of moving on.

The words were lame and heavy. They sounded too dramatic but at the same time, how else would I ever build up to what I was really feeling. I wanted to turn and lay in the dark of my room, unmoving. I had done that for a while, existing only when necessary. Because of Charlie's request, I was slowly building up my bones and muslces to be something that would actually mean something to someone. I needed to prove that I was more than the heap of muscles and silence in the corner of the room anymore.

I knew that the first day was hard for a sitting across from a stranger. I knew that I had a lack of communication skills, one for being rusty since I stopped speaking to many over the last few months and the complete lack of skills since birth. Charlie was my father and the results were obvious in my stuttering, fidgeting, and uncontrollable twitching during conversations that moved out of the span of my comfort. In that room, I felt like I was in her world. I felt like I was a patient that needed to be locked up and reminded to be sane each morning. I was tired of being that way. So I glanced back down at my notebook.

"You got homework over winter break?" Charlie asked, obviously seeing my strained face staring down at my notebook. I shook my head, biting at my lip.

"Therapist homework, if you count it as homework," He cleared his throat as i said it, obviously growing uncomfortable with the subject. We weren't good at this part of talking so I just let it go and he faded into the oblivion of watching television.

The words stayed on the page as I made dinner. There wasn't anything that I could say. I couldn't write down the secrets that were trusted into me. And the other words that were moving through my mind were childish, ones that she would probably look at and roll her eyes. The poor teenager with a broken heart. The thought made my jaw tighten and I made dinner quickly, cleaning up after, and heading straight to bed.

I closed the door to my room and felt the familiar loneliness that never existed until everything happened. It reminded me of how independent I used to be and unphased by other people's presence in my everyday life. It tended to be a pattern, something would happen and I would be in commotion for a while before everyone just left me alone. And it never bugged me or made me feel anything other than contentment. Now, I just felt numb.

Numb. Another word to add to the list. Alone. Drowning. Head below the water line.

I sat on the bed, looking around the room. I remembered the way that we used to talk, him sitting on the edge of the bed. He would always stay so engaged with the conversation if it was centered around me. His words would be short and sweet when they came to his life, even if his seemed to be the far superior life out of the two. I wanted to be back to just one conversation, to ask him something. To understand why he decided so suddenly that I wasn't going to be enough for him or what his motive had been in the beginning to make him even appear.

I laid back on my pillow, letting myself remember it all and wondering why he would leave. What had I done that was so terribly wrong so suddenly? If only I could have been enough, human or not. I closed my eyes and melted into the pillow, the notebook an anchor on my chest reminding me of the truth and how much healing I would be expected to do.


	3. Cities and Bars

**And here we are again. This chapter might start leading us to what the main beauty of this story is. There's a lot of beauty in healing and I think we don't see that during those painful processes, but looking back is when we find those gems. **

**Major disclaimer-I don't own or take ownership of any songs that I will be using in this story and I will give credit. I plan to post the songs used in each of these chapters onto my profile with links so anyone can follow along. I hope to get this one done tonight, but it may be tomorrow if my eyes fail me. **

**Songs of the Chapter**

**-Beast of Burden-The Rolling Stones**

**-Coming Around-TOMI**

**Stephanie Meyers owns all of Twilight. **

**Please review! Message me! Anything. Even recommend songs that maybe Bella would have around her or, maybe, in her.**

**The Art of Healing. Chapter 3. Cities and Bars. **

Somewhere between the night and morning, nightmares had gotten the best of my sleep. The words that were surrounding me reminded me of how alone I was; of Edward always being too far out of reach, and even Alice leaving me. She did and that was the truth, but the reminder in my unconsciousness did nothing to help my mind. I wondered what she had done when they all decided to leave, if she had hesitated on coming to say goodbye before turning her back and disappearing. Did Edward stop her? Did the rest of the family? Or was I also easy to leave behind?

That day I spent over my notebook, trying my best to come up with something that would be reassuring. There wasn't much that filled in the white of the page, but the few words there only seemed to dig me further into a hole that would take serious effort to make my way out of. It made me uneasy to know just how lost I had become in the flooding of my mind. My mind had become comfortable with the weight of the ocean over it and the thought of that not being there meant that maybe my mind was letting go of him. I didn't want that.

in the middle of the day, with laundry in the washer and dryer; the phone rang. I grabbed at it, thankful to have something to focus on other than the shit state that my mind was currently in.

"Hello?" I leaned against the counter, looking at the snow falling onto the trees.

"Hey!" Jacob's voice burst through the receiver, "How ya doing?"

I smiled, hoping up to sit on the counter, "Good, how are you?"

"Oh you know, the snow is putting a bit of a damper on my plans, but no biggie. I was wondering what you were up to tomorrow afternoon?" I pursed my lips and couldn't help but wish I could push the therapist right on out of my schedule.

"Unfortunately, I do have something. But it ends at three o'clock?" I stated it as a question, unsure of what he had in mind.

"You know what, that might be perfect. I was thinking that my dad and Charlie will probably be wanting to go ice fishing now that everything is freezing over. I am not one to be excited for that, as we both know, so I figured if we were hanging; they would not try to convince us to tag along,"

"Or they will believe we plotted and bring us anyway,"

"Damn, maybe we should say we are working on a project of some sort,"

"A project?"

"A project,"

"...Like?"

He bursted out laughing, contagiously forcing me into a fit, "Okay, fine. Maybe we just take a big leap and tell them we would rather sit around watching shitty daytime television or watching zombie flicks than going on the freezing water?"

I shook my head, imagining how Billy would respond to his thoughts, "Your dad is going to love that, reservation boy."

"Hey, what I am doesn't define me. When it's a bunch of guys going out to the lake together for a while, it's really not too bad. When it's just my dad and I, it tends to become something about how I am of direct bloodline of something great that I cannot even begin to understand and yada, yada. You know,"

"Fair enough. Maybe we can take a drive or something. Maybe we should go to Seattle for some holiday shopping. Might be believable,"

"I'm in!" We proceeded to plot in all the ways that we could convince them of our plans. Once Charlie got home, I went in to tell him how I had yet to really get anything for Renee and I had to get something in the mail for her or she wouldn't get it on time. His questionable, long-lasting

sense of too much affection for my mother from a distance caused him to agree to let us off the hook or avoided him to even begin to ask us to join him and Billy on the lake. As much as he seemed bummed at first, I knew there was something in him that was happy that he was witnessing some form of progress with me. It still didn't feel like healing, but it felt better than some of the ways that I had been feeling.

The next day, I headed to the therapist's office again. This time there wasn't the initial ice to break or anything that would make the situation more comfortable. Now, it was just throwing myself into the chaos and trying to convince myself that the world wasn't ending. She would be asking me questions and I would have to respond to the best of my abilities. The words that I had in my notebook seemed even more hollow than before, as if I was being pushed into the background and painted behind a wall of assumptions. I didn't know how to express my feelings right and it made me feel frozen and cold as I walked through the halls of the facility. It's hard to believe that the people who wanted to design the building thought the walls with plain paintings all around would be comforting for someone who doesn't want to speak much. I heaved a sigh and walked into her personal office.

"Bella!" She exclaimed as I walked into the room, smiling up from the papers that were on her desk. I wondered what other people she had to deal with throughout the week and day. The problems that people would bring to her were probably a lot more intense than the little ones that I was bringing to the table.

"Hi, Dr. Yales," I made my way to the seat across from her and sat down. My coat seemed to cling to me as my skin warmed so I wiggled out of it and hung it behind the chair.

"How's your week been?" She asked casually and I appreciated the slow pull into everything.

I shrugged, thinking about my struggle to find the right words for the millions of feeling within me, "It's been okay. The weather is still pretty cold and I haven't really adjusted properly."

"That's fair," She laughed, "Though, it's hard to believe that we need all that much time to adjust, given how few sunny and nice days we are given around here. Do you usually do anything on those nicer days?"

I shrugged, "I mean, I used to go to this meadow with...but that's changed. Maybe I'll start finding some new places to go on the reservations."

"You know people who live there?"

"Yeah, my friend, Jacob, has been living there since we were kids. I think I mentioned them last time but my dad and his dad have been best friends since high school or maybe even before. We've been hanging out more lately," It felt good to talk about Jacob. It made me feel better than before, having something to actually focus on rather than just discussing my feelings.

"Have you two always been friends? Or just recently?" She seemed to write something down and I figured she would be trying to remember all the names that I had stated over the course of us talking.

"No," I tried to describe the friendship that Jacob and I had over the years. It was choppy. It took a lot of breaks and didn't always look the best, but it was always there. It seemed to be the only guarantee that was in my life and the more I thought about it, the more I found comfort in it, "Honestly, we've been on and off friends for a long time. I used to live in Arizona with my mom, but when I came to visit my dad here; we would hang out. We didn't really reconnect until recently."

"Do you feel happy around Jacob?" She kept making small eye contact with me, and I think she knew that she had to keep it limited. Staring at me too long made me overthink my answers and question everything about what I was feeling, but she had seemed to learn this quickly after a few times of us meeting.

"I feel better," I was being honest. He made the part of me that felt so undone, completely and utterly destroyed, like it was almost mending. It had been small at first, feeling like I was just beginning to ease the parts of me together like a ragdoll that was stitching pieces to make everything better for the time being. I wanted to be that person, but it seemed so far down the line. Every time I was alone, it was like those pieces were departing from the other and becoming unimaginably separated by time and _him_. At times, it felt as though I made sure there was a hole for him, if he should ever come back, waiting. Like a welcoming flag. Or the hole that could never be filled. I didn't know.

"How do you feel when you aren't with Jacob? Did you write down any of the words that we were talking about?" As she said that I grabbed the notebook and held it in my hands. Watching those empty words lay on the pages made me feel like I hadn't done the work right. I sighed but read the words anyway.

"Hopeless. Lost. Topaz. Marked. Wordless farewell. Eighteen. Birthday. Whatever is the opposite of moving on. Numb. Drowning. Head below the water...I'm sorry, that's pretty much all I've gotten down so far," I tapped the paper nervously, feeling the environment of the room grow heavy and seemed to begin to cling against me.

"Those are heavy words. Can we go through each one? Maybe try to pick apart where they are coming from so I have a better understanding," She seemed to gauge my reaction as I glanced back down at the words. I gave a small nod.

"Hopeless. Why have you been feeling that way? What made you think of it?" She leaned back, her hair was loose down her shoulders. It, somehow, made it more apparent that she was normal and was someone that I should talk to in confidence. Charlie wouldn't know what I said and the act that I have been trying my best to maintain recently had the ability to fall down gently without immediate consequences of his worries.

"Hopeless because...I don't know if...I'll get better. Ever," I was biting my lip nervously, unsure about her reaction.

"Get better from what?" Her question took me back, making me look around the room as if I could pinpoint the words that put the answer into relatable terms.

"Get better to how I was before. I don't know how…" I imagined how I had been before Forks. I imagine how I used to be so content alone and without anybody. My mother and I had been close but I surely wasn't falling apart when she went on her long trips and left me mostly alone with some money since I was thirteen. It had been so easy when I was younger and now I felt gross for how clingy to other people I had become.

"That's okay. Almost everything takes a lot of time and in the beginning, it hardly feels like we'll ever get to the point where we feel like we accomplished the goal. But the first step to anything is trying to identify which emotions that you are feeling and working on it. Now, what's the next word?"

And that's how we passed the afternoon. We went through each word and with each one, the words began to flow out of me easily. I felt myself becoming more open with descriptions and the ways that it was to slowly let words flow through me like a river. It occurred to me that in my silence most days, I had become like a capsule for everything around me and what I believed to be true. I never gave myself the chance to talk to anyone and my calls with Renee had slowly become very short and sweet, which was very unlike the conversations that I had grown up with. I began to feel regret for how I had been treating the people around me, even Charlie.

"So, that was a lot for today and I'm sorry we have been taking off so quickly. I'm not always so quick with patients and I like to have you really start the conversation with what you are comfortable with, but this activity seemed to do you well. The words that you were saying and writing seem to be giving me a better idea of where to go from here. Now, do you do anything really fun outside of just hanging out with friends? A hobby for yourself and maybe something that could eventually be shared with people?" She had become more relaxed as the hour passed, and so I was now sitting cross legged in the chair across from her.

"Not really...anything really hobby-oriented I used to do with my mother but not anymore. I don't really know what would qualify anymore,"

"Have you thought about music?"

"Music?" 

"Yes,"

"Like listening to it?" I raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was becoming a process to me actually liking certain kinds of music again or some weird therapeutic violin that would just make me pass out every night.

"Like making it," She glanced up at me, watching my eyebrows both pop up, "I know the idea might sound a little weird for some people but when we were talking, your descriptions turned very lyrical. As if it was a poem. And maybe we can start there. But sometimes music, by finding that outlet and making it into something real will make it more bearable to deal with and quite releasing. Why not think about it and let me know? Maybe just bring in some poems on tuesday and we can see how we feel?"

"Okay," I left the office with the idea in my head. A large part of me really felt like just scoffing and moving on because the thought of me doing anything like that was ridiculous. Me and music? Me performing? Me playing? Me, Bella Swan, trying to get into music? I think most anyone would have a chuckle at that so I tried to throw it away and focus on the poem that she wanted. Now, though, I got to hang out with Jacob.

My cell phone, the one that Charlie got me now that I was slowly moving away from the house more and regularly attending my sessions, rang. It had to be Jacob because Charlie never talked on the phone and Jake was the only other person who had my number on hand.

"Hello?" I answered as I hopped into my truck.

"What do you think about motorcycles?" It seemed like his voice was smiling through the phone.

'I think I'm in,"

It became obvious that we would be fixing up the motorcycles before we would have a chance to actually ride them. That was okay with me, since the cold of winter was really working itself into the system. I sat on an old tire in Jacob's garage and we listened as Billy and Charlie got ready for the fishing trip. We convinced them that we would be going to Seattle for a bit, trying to see a movie and shop for some books. That had convinced them enough so they would leave us to our own terrors for the evening.

"Okay, but real talk, what's Arizona like? Is it as terrifying as people say?" Jacob's head was bent down and screwing something for the bike. I laughed at him, his hair falling all around his face.

"Terrifying? Who says Arizona is terrifying?" I leaned back on the tire, enjoying the heat of the garage.

"Well, it never rains so everything is dry. And aren't there scorpions everywhere?" He glanced up at me and I only realized then that he was serious, but I couldn't help but laugh.

"You're worried about scorpions when you have massive bears on this reservation. And wolves. And a million other types of animals that actually will hunt down a human. Scorpions will only attack you if you attack it. It defensive,"

"I don't know, I guess we all end up afraid of things that we aren't used to. You are the only brave one around here since you've lived in both. Time to see how you fight scorpions and bears," He stood up, walking to grab something from his tool box.

"Right," I laughed, "Because I seem like just the type of person to take on both at the same time."

He shrugged, "Nothing a fogger can't cure."

As we continued, he handed me his ancient IPod to play music from. I say ancient because the screen was faded and the buttons took several times to smack before they kicked on. I had to laugh because I knew he made enough money from doing little jobs around the reservation to probably do something like buy a new one. He was trying to get the best out of it, which I admired. But then I laughed again, this time from his music choice.

"Have you left the eighties? You weren't even alive yet when most of these songs hit their ten year anniversary," He rolled his eyes at me, but he couldn't really argue. Most of these bands were elderly and half of them were long dead.

"You've gotta respect all music, but especially ones that led to all the new stuff. Trust me, I've actually got some CDs of newer shit, but I just can't get the dumb thing to work on any computer to get more songs on it," He walked over and snatched it out of my hand, scrolling along the list of his music.

"Time to update," I smiled up at him, "And hey, we are going to Seattle. Why not try and find another one?"

"I don't want to give this one up, though," He chuckled, clicking on "Beast of Burden" by The Rolling Stones, the music filling the garage.

"Just have this one for the old music," I giggled, "It fits the theme of it."

He tossed a towel at me and finished up. Charlie and Billy popped their heads into the garage and yelled over the music for us to be safe. Charlie seemed a lot more relaxed at the idea of me going with Jake. I never had the heart to tell him that if it hadn't been for E…._him, _I would have probably been killed in Seattle or become a missing person. I knew it wouldn't happen this time around as we drove out there. Billy had us take his car, since no one seemed to have faith in my old machine. Not that I blame them, it always made a weird noise after hitting fifty.

The conversation kept rolling as we entered Seattle and found some parking before walking. It was cold, but I had dressed in layers so I was okay. Jacob never seemed to get all that cold, still sporting his hoodie and jeans with some boots. I glanced over at him, watching his movements and how he seemed a lot more confident than he used to be. I wondered if I opened up to him more about everything in me if he would judge me. He would have to think that I was crazy or mental or ill. There was not a good explanation for what I was feeling or that I needed to talk to a therapist to make it through.

"What movie are we even going to see?" He asked as we rounded the corner, nearing a theatre. I hadn't looked or really paid any attention to recent movie titles. I stopped and thought about it, realizing how silly my plan was.

"Well," I laughed, glancing around, "Maybe we just walk in and see what movies are there? If there is nothing at all then we can just walk around for a while, maybe grab some food."

"Sounds good," We went in and the walls were either covered with Disney movies or romantic comedies. Not that I hate romance, but the thought of seeing it right now made my stomach churn. I wasn't ready to watch other people be happy or break up or anything. There was enough going on to make my dreams turn into nightmares that I didn't need another reminder for all the things I would never have again. And Disney made Jake's face twist into a frown, but he glanced at me to see if it was something I wanted to see. I laughed and pointed at the exist, faintly hearing a, "Thank God," as he walked out.

"So food?" He smiled and looked around, "What do you have a taste for?"

Feeling good for the first time in a long time, I shrugged, a smile forming on my own face to mimic his, "Why don't we just walk until we see a place that looks mildly interesting and peek in? If it's something we don't want, we just find somewhere new?"

"I'm in," And we walked. He told stories of the school days with Quil and Embry. They seemed so close that it was hard to imagine them not being brothers. Quil, according to Jake's stories, was witty. He had a way of having a comeback to everyone, including the teachers. While his parents probably didn't love that fact, it was a quality that would come in handy in everyday life. I wanted to meet his friends by the stories that he was telling not just tonight, but almost every time we had hung out or talked on the phone.

We had walked for about five blocks before hearing the commotion from a nearby bar. Jake stopped, obviously liking the noise and welcoming sounds. He motioned towards the open door, towards what may have looked like a bar. There was someone performing on the small stage and her voice was echoing out into the street.

"What do you think? Might be a chill pub but it looks interesting?" Jake glanced back at me, "If they try to card us, we'll just head out and find something different."

I agreed and we went in and, surprisingly, no one tried to stop us. I noticed that most people had cups in their hands and not alcoholic glasses so we sank into a corner where a woman asked if we would like something to eat. After ordering some food, we sat and watched the woman who seemed to take charge of all the attention. She must have been twenty-five, her hair in curls flying all around her as she rocked back and forth to the beat of the music. Her voice sounded soft, but held a secret power that made everyone have to watch. I couldn't help but love it as my foot taped along to the beat.

"She's pretty good," Jake yelled into my ear and I nodded, transfixed by her openness and power. I was never one to attend shows or even a real concert, so I was somehow hypnotized by the way she held the room but had such meaning behind her music.

The amazing thing about her was between songs, when she tried to speak about anything she seemed to stumble and struggle to find a way to communicate properly, but she didn't really have to. Her voice held enough for her to depend only on that and the words she put into her music. I remembered how Dr. Yales had told me to consider turning to music, but I didn't know if I would ever be able to do anything like this. But how freeing it must be to let all the tiny pieces hidden in you come out in a blaze to people who never knew you.

We were served our food and we ate slowly, chatting and watching her perform. She slowed down for a bit, taking the microphone between her hands and taking a moment to speak, "So, I've been doing this for a while, but I started doing only covers. It's what inspired me to eventually write some of my own stuff. I heard a song the other day and it reminded me how much music can speak to you, so I decided to do a little cover of it tonight. This is "Coming Around" By TOMI."

And then she performed, like her whole being depended on it and the words hit me. Hard. Harder than I had ever known before. I couldn't help but listen and get goosebumps. Her words were hitting places I had left a curtain over to everyone, including myself. And I had to press my palms to my chest to keep everything safely in place. Jake must have saw my reaction because he went to worry but I shook my head. There was something amazing and powerful about it. I remembered Edward, when he would perform. It seemed like breathing. Like it was a part of himself that he was giving out. In that moment, his name didn't gauge my chest open while the music filled the air.

We left, on some weird search for the IPod revival that could function accordingly so Jake could have some real songs. We passed by a music shop after buying a simple one that he swore would be just enough for everything he wanted to do with it, and I stopped in the window. Inside, there was a grand piano right next to a guitar. Somewhere in my memory, where I kept things all too buried, I remembered the ways that Edward's hands would dance over the keys, reminding me of how amazing he was. It was simple to him, something he had learned quickly and kept to it. But it was not something that belonged to him, something I couldn't reach. I took a mental screenshot of the price of a small piano and the guitar, deciding to apply for some jobs the following Monday.

I could do something that beautiful, too.

**Review!**


	4. The Strings of Friends

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**The next chapter is already written and should be up very soon!**

**The Art of Healing-Chapter 4-The Strings of Friends**

From what I understand, sometimes the moments that are the hardest to talk about are also the hardest to write. The more I think about words or descriptions for everything that has happened, the less I know how to describe. Maybe the English language itself is lacking, but I still feel blind to myself and to anyone else who would ever look over the scribblings that were now covering every surface of my notebook.

The nights were still hard. When I closed my eyes, there he was. He was never too far away from me. Even when he was there, though, he was leaving. Always leaving. No matter how hard I ran or how loud I screamed his name, begging him to kill me instead of leaving or change me so that I could go with him or be enough for him, he was always gone. Once in a while, it would be like he was reminding me that he did not want me anymore and it made me feel like I was suffocating, drowning back into the place that exists when people always leave you.

It was hard to put into words what I was feeling or what I had ever felt. I didn't want to talk about all the bad things that happened, about how the woods had felt when they sucked Edward further and further away from me. It was like being dragged through a nightmare, suffocating myself into the worst parts of what humanity and nature held together. I was choking on all the things that I didn't know, didn't understand. The more confusing part was what I didn't understand. Why did he stay so long if he knew that in the end, he was going to leave? There was nothing that was happening that made sense, but thinking back there was almost nothing that made sense since stepping off of a plane at the Seattle airport and then heading here. The feeling made me sick to my stomach.

I stood up off my bed, pacing back and forth. How could I describe losing him? What had happened to? How could he leave after everything, after trying to save me over and over again even when it seemed so hopeless? The thoughts began swirling, grabbing at my chest like it was something that could be torn easily open. My legs began to be shake and I felt everything leaving me in rash gusts that made my body feel like a puppet out of my control. I bent down to my knee, heaving air in and out of my lungs almost angrily. The sound coming from my chest hardly sounded like the noise that should be coming out of my chest.

My knees pressed into the carpet and I laid my head on the ground. Drifting slowly along the bottom of my room, watching the walls shift up and down against my vision forced my eyes to shut. I had to focus on my breathing or soon I would be choking painfully to get anything to go in or out of my body, which Charlie might hear and come running in. It was embarrassing to be a child that needed rescuing from my own mind over and over again. It felt weak.

Once the panic subsided and I was able to ease myself back into normal breathing and, eventually, standing. I sat back down on my bed, leaning back to rest my head against the pillow. I could try to describe that. The feeling that happened when there was almost nothing that I could cling myself to trying to remain stable. I turned over and picked up my pencil and began to write. Anything. Maybe, eventually, everything.

There's just nothing but this echoing, how do people stop the noise

Picking up the pieces never stops, I'd like to feel whole

But every time I close my eyes, I run into your skin

Peeling me apart, this is a war I may never win.

I sighed, not liking how it sounded but knowing that it was better than just putting down simple words over and over again and having to describe them to Dr. Yates when they weren't explanatory enough. Glancing over at the clock, I realized that the hours had gone by quick it was almost early in the morning. Charlie would be getting up for work soon. I also had an interview to attend. It had been a week, Christmas only being a few days away, and I had to get a job going. Charlie was surprised by my sudden jump, unsure of what spurred it on. I had told him that the college application I needed to send in all have a fee. While he had stated that he would help me, he didn't argue about this based on my mentioning of going to college. For a while, he must have lost faith that I would ever get up and actually do something again. Now, I was hanging out with friends and working on my future. On the outside, I was almost mimicking what healing must look like.

I decided to shower before starting breakfast for Charlie, words still trying to find some place to land in my brain. There was so much to describe and my vocabulary seemed so small compared to all of it. Charlie seemed surprised when he came down the stairs and spotted me flipping an omelette in the skillet, fully dressed and seeming more awake than he was. I gave him a small smile before turning back to the stove.

"You are up early for winter vacation," he observed, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and filling it with coffee.

"I have that interview at eleven and I wanted to work on some stuff," I put his omelette on the plate and set it on the table in front of him.

His mustache wiggled as he took in the breakfast and me, dressed in a slightly better attire that I hadn't had any motivation or willpower to put on. The truth was, it was one of the many pieces of clothing that Alice had gotten for me over the months of knowing her and it was a reminder. However, today I needed the confidence that dressing like her gave me, so I squared my shoulders and sat down to my own breakfast.

"So," Charlie started after taking a bite, "Where is this interview?"

"It's at the library. It's just a small job, secretary work or putting some books away. Nothing too crazy and easy hours," He nodded in approval quietly to myself.

"That's good. I'm glad to hear it. I wish you luck," He smiled across the table and I could see that all of this was making it happy. A small part of me was happy that he was becoming less worried. He didn't need to know about my breakdown this morning. It was better to keep him believing that the nightmares were taking a backseat and the panic only happened when I was faced with something very intense. Not with words.

Jake had made fun of me for getting such a "boring" job. I couldn't help but roll my eyes because working on the library may seem boring to a lot of people, but I was hoping that if there were books for me to read; I would. For the most part, I had given up reading once the Cullens left. It was hard to not find specific pieces of each storyline that connected back to them. Every goofy character was Emmett, the girly woman were Alice, the stubborn ones were Rosalie. After everything, it was hard to admit that I even missed Rose. She probably was very pleased with the way that everything turned out. At least someone was happy.

I tried to move that thought out of my head as I continued my day. The interview went well and the woman there was nice, seeming to like having someone so young interested in working there. There were many older women that were working there, and a few men; none of them seemed to have that much excitement left in them for books or reading. There wasn't a soul that could blame them considering that there was hardly a pull towards reading in many of the younger kids nowadays. It made me sad, but I also was relieved to think about having a job where Mike Newton couldn't come and loudly flirt on the desk while I was sorting through books.

Somewhere in me, I knew that Newton had a good heart. He was just really bad at expressing anything. He gave the Cullen's leaving as a notion that I was available and ready to jump into the next awaiting arms of anyone who would listen. My silence to his advances deterred him, but I knew it was momentarily. Jessica would watch me, obviously angered by the situation but understanding that it wasn't entirely my fault. In her mind, I was probably doing something towards Mike that would make me seem more willing to enter something, but I think she knew the truth.

Angela and Eric had been the only two that showed any real understanding and concern for me, even though it was embarrassing when they would come to me and talk. In another life or circumstance, I imagined that Angela and I may have been some of the best of friends. It made me feel guilty because I knew she probably had a sense of the same, but this was the life we had and I was crumbled. She never had a chance to really build a bond with me until all ties that were once attached to be simultaneously parished, just like everything I knew. It was hard to admit that there was more than just the Cullens that I lost. I really lost myself.

With the job at the library secure, the holidays would be completed and my starting date was three days after the beginning of the year. The woman laughed about how wonderful it made tax season for me, skipping a year of taxes because I would only have worked there for a week before the year ended. I tried to smile along but there wasn't such a comedy to it in my eyes. I just needed to start. The house, all alone, had become a war ground that I was losing with my mind.

Dr. Yates called when I got home, wondering how I was doing. We had met earlier in the week, but there wasn't much to talk about. The day had been a particularly rough one with a night full of terror to begin the day, so we ended early. The next session was bound to be a little more intense because we were to really begin our discussion. I was thankful for her ability to understand when days were too tough to talk about.

"Bella, how are you doing?" She asked in a way that made it feel like I was talking to an old friend, not a therapist.

"I actually just got a job today," I felt like that was all I had accomplished, but from the outside; it would look good.

She seemed to clap her hands together, "That is so good! I'm very happy for you. How is the poetry coming along, anything flowing or?"

I shrugged but knew she was unable to see me so I spoke, "It's okay. It's not Shakespeare but it's not the worst, I guess. It's hard."

"Remember what I said, most of this isn't going to be easy. And I am not expecting any wild epics or stories of two teens in Verona; that might actually worry me more. I want to see what is going on with you and I want you to understand what is going on inside of you. I know you have build this very thick wall to keep everyone out of, even yourself. Vulnerability is dangerous to some of us, and it's terrifying to leave that much of yourself out there. Putting it on paper is already difficult, let alone saying the words and letting it out. Just try to take it slow and remember that any progress is good," Her words made sense, but I still felt a weight in my chest.

"I'll keep working on it," We ended the call not long after and I sat in my kitchen. Charlie's day was far from over and Jake was probably busy. Sometimes, I didn't have the heart to call him when I knew he had other friends. The ones who had been there his whole life and my depending on him was unhealthy. We needed to be friends and being friends meant that I couldn't fall on him so easily. He needed his space and I had to be comfortable in mine. I didn't expect anyone to change their lives around me, so I couldn't ask him to.

Sitting in the kitchen, I watched as the snow slowly fell through the window. Somewhere in a part of my mind, I wondered what the snow may have looked like once climbing to the top of one of those giant oaks. Would it still be so quiet when you were closer to where the madness all began? It was a question that a child asked their parents, most likely with a answer of how unable a person is to witnessing that first hand. But I had seen the top of an oak once, back when life made more sense than it was now.

It was better to not let my mind wander to all those places and possibilities. There was a lot that I wouldn't ever know. The questions that I had and the thoughts that controlled me felt as if they belonged to someone else, but were mine. There was another Bella in me, the one that was unable to function whatsoever, that came out when I was alone. I'm not sure if it was proper to say that it was "another Bella" or perhaps just the demon of everything I didn't understand.

Bringing up Alice at the first therapy session had hurt worse than I thought. In truth, I wasn't allowing myself to think about her leaving hurting me almost as bad as his leaving had. It was impossible to really state or understand. Never in my life had someone came so out of nowhere, so sure that we were meant to be friends, and had been right. She was eccentric and wild, but she was kind. She loved when people forgot how to. Her not saying goodbye was worse than the goodbye that I was given. It was in those moments, the really gross ones that made my stomach churn and my impulses begged me to shove my head through a wall, that I knew healing seemed almost completely out of the question.

Instead of staying in my professional clothing for the rest of the day, I switched into a hoodie and sweatpants. The holiday season called for some lazy clothing and no one questioned it. Not even Charlie, who had watched me hide with every sweater and pair of leggings or sweatpants I owned. Then I picked up my laptop and sat on the couch in the family room, which was cleaned because of my early tornado through the house in my anxiety. Cleaning had become a weird version of coping, one that Charlie didn't exactly argue with, but one that was bordering unhealthy.

Opening my computer, I glanced through the pictures that I took from my birthday. This was unhealthy. Wrong. Something that I should not do, but I had to. Everything that had been given to me on my birthday had disappeared, all of it. However, Edward didn't know that I had worked on converting the pictures I took on my camera and placed it into many folders so I couldn't lose it by accidentally hitting something wrong. Now, I had some evidence that they both existed, even when everyone told me to forget.

There was Alice. Her hair up in those wild upward spikes, but fitting her perfectly. She was smiling with Jasper, who looked strained. Something in me knew that, even if they had left for other reasons, he probably held some sort of guilt for what happened. There was a scar on my forearm that reminded me of the moment that put Edward over the edge, one that I would replay through my head. Funny enough, it wasn't the worst part of my life. The image of him walking away remained to be the worst of the worst.

The next was of Emmett and Rose. Rose had the familiar expression of seeming indifferent but she was still beautiful. I wondered what they were doing, but my curiosity may become irritating to her if she were to ever know. I clicked to the next picture and my breath caught in my throat, strangling me in place.

There he was. He was beautiful. He was everything I never knew I could have, even for a moment. If I was the right kind of person, being thankful for just having known him for as long as I did would be enough. I should be content with what I had gotten because it was so much more than many people would. His eyes were focussed on me in the photo and when it was first taken, I had mistaken it for love. Devotion. Something that was precious. Now, if I stared too long, I could see how he may have been contemplating leaving me.

His arm was around me, holding me to him. I wanted to be there again. Maybe just one more time so that I could appreciate it more. With that, I clicked off the photos and slammed the computer shut. I covered my face with my hands, feeling my elephant return back on my chest like a locket that I would never lose. It felt disgusting and horrific. The words that I was trying to say were locked underneath all of it and I didn't know how to lift any of the weight.

In a last ditch effort, I found some gifts to get my dad. They weren't bad, but it didn't feel like anything that really make him excited. He was one of the most difficult people to shop for in any holiday. After wrapping the few items I found, I laid them under the small tree. In some antique store, I found a blanket that reminded me of my mom. I stuffed it in a box and sent it off to Florida where I hoped that she might receive it before the big day but I doubted it.

In a spur of the moment decision, I had picked up some CDs for Jake. We had never really exchanged gifts for this holiday, but I had to. It was only a few weeks since we had started talking again but he had helped me get afloat enough to make Charlie happy. For that, he deserved something. The CDs weren't much, but they were something we might be able to listen to in his garage while he worked on the motorcycles or we were driving into town.

Christmas came and Charlie got to be home in the morning. He handed me a few boxes and some that had been shipped in from Renee. She had encouraged me in October and November to come to Florida for part of the winter, but it just wasn't working well with how I was feeling and what was happening. Charlie watched as I opened the gifts, odd trinkets from my mother and some stuff to prepare for the winter months from Charlie. He liked his gifts enough before standing up and heading to get ready for the day.

"Are you heading to the reservation?" He asked once he was dressed in his uniform.

I shrugged, "Would it be weird? I'm not sure what they do for the holidays anymore?"

"Actually," he began, "I gave them a call a few days ago when I figured out that I would have to work and you would be here all alone on Christmas. They invited you over. Apparently they found a way to have an enclosed fire pit that let them sit outside and stay warm? I'm not sure what those crazy kids figure out in their time off, but it sounds intriguing. I don't have a long shift so I'll be there later on."

With that, I packed up the gifts I had and put them in my backpack. I changed into a sweater and jeans, hoping that it was okay for what they were having. It was hard jumping from one holiday with one side of the family as it was, but this was somewhere I hardly ever was on Christmas day. It made me nervous and fidgety but I got into my truck and headed to the reservation.

The weather had held out to be nearly perfect, something that was hard to fathom in Forks. It was crisp and cold, but the storms that had been plaguing the last few holidays here was gone. My last few trips to Forks before permanently moving had been discouraged because the weather had been so bad and gross that most of them were cut short or were spent with me shivering in the room he loaned me. It wasn't until I made the choice to stay for good that my room transformed into something much more warm and home-like.

I pulled in and saw a lot of people around the Black's residence. Immediately, I was nervous and I parked in a safe spot and hopped out of the car, presents in tow. Eyes flashed over to me and watched me curiously made my way into the house as they were setting up something outside, I'm guessing a bonfire. Before I could get fully towards the house, the front door popped open and Jake was waiting.

"Hey, Bells," he smiled at me, glancing at the bag over my shoulder, "Whatcha got there?"

I shrugged, "Just some stuff for you and Billy. I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was going to be so many people otherwise I would have brought something small for everyone." 

"And go broke," he laughed, taking the bag and setting it into his small living room, "We usually do secret santa anyway with the rest of the family and friends on the reserve. You're fine."

He led the way through the house, staying next to me as if he knew I was feeling completely out of place. Luckily, my outfit was appropriate as many of the people there were either wearing a sweater like me or in a hoodie and jeans. Jake sported a t-shirt, which just made me shiver at the sight.

"Dad? Bella's here," Jake ushered me into the kitchen to greet his dad. Billy lit up and rolled his way over to give me a hug.

"Your dad out working?" He asked once he pulled away from the hug.

I nodded, "But it looks like he'll be having a short shift and is coming here after."

Billy nodded in approval as the rest of the adults nodded as well, "Well, he knows how late we go."

Then, I was introduced. Apparently, my name has been brought up numerous times because everyone seemed to know me before I memorized their name. The clearwaters gave me a hug, both talking about how excited Charlie had been once I came back into town. They had seen a real change in him and it made me wonder just how much my dad hid from me when he was alone. We were both really great at being alone, but did his alone hurt something like mine was since they left? The thought made my stomach heavy.

Jake's sister, who I had never gotten a chance to really meet, Rachel was in the corner. She must have been visiting from college or wherever she was now. She fit in, but she also seemed to be distant. I waved slightly and she waved back politely, but that was all. Jake took that as a cue to lead me out into the garage, where the real "fun" would be, as he put it.

We opened the garage and a crowd of teenagers, mostly boys, sat howling about something. Jake kept close to me, probably noticing the noise made me curl up a bit and take a step closer to him.

"Is this the famous Bella?" One of the boys asked, which made all of them turn to look at me.

"I suppose you could say that," I laughed, glancing over at Jake who was nodding.

"Bella, this is a bunch of hooligans. That's Quil, Seth, Leah, and Paul. The guy stuffing his face over there is Embry. A few others are going to be coming later but this is the main bunch," he pointed and I tried to keep their names straight. The only one that I had for certain was Leah, as she was the only girl.

"Hey," I laughed and they all came towards me, making jokes so fast that I had trouble keeping up. They all seemed welcoming and it was surprising considering just how much on the outside I had been. Some of the boys had long hair like Jake and it made their presence feel familiar. I smiled as they each made themselves unique, whether how they spoke or their mannerisms. I liked the feeling of being welcomed without being looked at funny. It had been a long time.

The night went on easily and I began to feel myself melt into the bunch, maybe even defining a place for myself. Even their parents began to make me feel welcomed, smiling over at me and asking questions about school. It was hard to answer some of them, considering how far I'd let myself go for planning for the future. No one pushed too hard and I could tell that they weren't completely worried that I didn't have the perfect answer planned out. Life could have choices and they all welcomed that as much as me.

As the sun began to set, the scene outside began to unfold. The outside of their back deck had been enclosed in a strange netting or material that would appear to keep most of the wind and snow from getting onto anyone. Heaters were placed around the edges for several hours so that by the time Jake ushered me into the back; it was warm. They had also built a large fire, making sure the top of the enclosure was high enough so that the flames would not cause melting or a fire. It was clever and I liked it.

Everyone crowded outside, music being played softly in the background and the comfortability of the entire night was surprising. I hadn't expected it but it made me feel good. Safe. In a way that I had forgotten was possible. I rested back in one of the chairs, my feet resting on the edge of Jake's chair so that my feet out stay warm. He hadn't minded as he was preoccupied with some story that Paul was telling. It sounded like something dangerous that a bunch of them had done but none of the parents seemed phased by the story.

The older parents and grandparents began to herd around the fire, warming themselves up and telling stories from when they were young and what the reservation had been through over the years. I listened intently, enjoying the way that they all seemed to harmonize without any loose ends. There was something in me that wanted to always be a part of this, a part of something that seemed bigger than just an ordinary family. Billy spoke of friends and what it all meant to come together during this holiday season and that everyone is lucky.

Charlie walked into the backyard around then, still wearing his uniform and going to slap Billy on the shoulder, "Someone is getting sappy. Too much eggnog?"

They laughed and I smiled over at my dad, who seemed more than pleased to see that I was sitting off with the other kids of the reservation. I wondered if I looked as welcomed as I felt. Charlie decided to grab food and come out, talking with the rest of the families that were still inside and I could sense him starting to really relax. It made me feel bad how stressed that I had been making him and while I didn't know if I could ever really be the girl I was a few months ago; maybe I could be something else.

As much of the laughter and jokes died down, a quiet comfort settled over everyone. The friends of Jake's were all laying back in their chairs, so full from all the food that they consumed. Jake was still in a T-shirt and I shook my head as he put his arms behind his own head, leaning back.

"How about some music?" Embry suggested, going and grabbing a guitar from the corner where a few other musical instruments lay. I hadn't noticed and with the suggestion, I sat up with intrigue.

A bunch of the guys and some of the parents grabbed instruments before sitting back around the fire. Charlie scooted a chair up next to me and leaned over, "This is a show, you'll love it."

I smiled and watched as everyone melted into a harmony. There was not necessarily one person in charge of where the music was going, but more like a well-oiled machine that was finding comfort in the way that it was flowing. It blended perfectly, some of the other adults chiming in to hum along to the music. Seth was one of the kids playing, holding the guitar with such relaxation that I guessed he'd been playing for as long as he had known what guitars were.

It was in that moment, as the music they played fill the December air that had been warmed by heaters and fire that I knew what I could do. The music that was being played made me feel something that I had been lacking for so long that its presence made my throat close up, close to tears. While my words were struggling to land on a place where I could express everything that was going on within me, I still had plenty to say. I would write to them. I wanted to learn how to express such emotion without having to just speak, or scream, or try to make my voice into a siren that crossed oceans to wherever they were. Maybe music could.

Jake picked up a guitar as Paul set it aside and started playing along. He hadn't told me about his talent but he wasn't always one to brag about his talents, as he avoided to tell me how the truck had been in such bad condition before that getting it to run the way it seemed to resemble a miracle. He played flawlessly, effortlessly. In an odd way, he played the guitar the way that Edward played the piano. I remembered those days, the way that it would mesmerize me until I had no words left that were worth expressing.

He smiled over as he saw my eyes wide, watching him play. Charlie was watching him too, equally impressed. We were not the musical family. Our talents were hidden, ones that probably didn't belong in the area of "hidden talents". Charlie was good at being there for everyone, hence him being a cop. I was good at...in all honesty, I had yet to fully figure that one out. There had to be something.

As I watched Jake's hands play guitar, I wondered if there was a way that I could make my hidden talent music. Even if just in a small way. Just enough to get some of the elephant off my chest so that breathing was easier.

My fingers itched to find the notebook and start writing.

**Review!**


	5. The Key

**Hello, friends. May I just say that the feedback from A New Light has been heartwarming. Keep watching it for the coming weeks and a surprise may arise. Give this a read, if you'd like. It IS Edward/Bella. It's just going to take some time. **

**Stephanie Meyers owns every bit of it. I just added sprinkles. **

**Love always.**

**-A**

The Art of Healing

Chapter 5

The Key

The weeks following Christmas went by quick. I worked with Dr. Yales, but she went out of town for a few weeks after the holidays so I had a break to work on some writing. She wanted to see something since it would be a while between our visits and I worked hard. I worked harder than I had in a long time on anything. Charlie often came home from work to find me bent over a notebook, scribbling furiously over words and phrases that hardly made sense but felt like they were growing closer and closer to something like what I was feeling. There had to be words.

I kept wondering, no matter how much I liked to ignore the future, if I could take a class that would help with my word choice. There was a whole language that I had known for as long as I was alive and I read more than most kids my age and yet, here I was, completely useless for words that could put together how I was feeling. It was frustrating.

It was the Saturday before returning back to school and I sat on my bedroom floor, head leaning back and feeling hopeless. I'm not sure if it was hopeless, but frustrating myself had become a theme while I was writing. For so many people, words came easily. It was like breathing to do it and the pen still felt somewhat foreign in my hand despite my years of writing "A" worthy papers and being recommended for higher classes. They taught me how to articulate my ideas in a fashion that made future careers possible, but they failed to teach me how to describe the hole in my chest and the emptiness that seemed to hang over me.

I leaned over, pressing myself over the notebook when a floor board squeaked. The noise made me jump and I looked around, confused. I mimicked the same movement and heard the same noise creak across the floor. Standing up, the boards that were usually perfectly in line looked out of place, like something had moved. Cautiously, I moved the boards and found that one was able to move so I removed it and looked down into what was underneath. My breath hitched in my throat and my chest ripped open.

Underneath was everything I was given on my eighteenth birthday. Everything. I reached down and found the various pieces of my past that I had tried to bury yet find. My fingers were trembling as I lifted the pictures, knowing exactly who must have put them there. While Charlie was sneaky and looking out for me, entering my room was out of line for him. The only one that would have done something so forward and quiet was Edward. In a sick way that I might have to address later, I felt as though finding it was another gift from him. It made me shake my head, but I couldn't let go of it.

There was a note. One that I wasn't meant to find, but it was there. Folded over, there was a note from Esme and Alice. Seeing their signatures, perfect as always, made tears fill my eyes and I had to sit back to let myself breathe. I missed them so much that the very thought of them leaving anything behind for me to find made my heart hurt. This must have been something they snuck in after Edward left. Or, at least, it would seem. Edward had promised me that it would be like he never existed. He lied.

I opened the note after my eyes cleared and saw the writing. I held my breath, unprepared for anything to hurt too much more than I was already experiencing.

Bella,

There is not a lot of promises that we are able to keep, but providing you with a safe place is one. Please welcome yourself. You are always welcomed in our hearts and eyes.

We are eternally sorry.

-Esme and Alice

There, taped below the words, was a key. I recognized it from the various times it had been used or sitting on a table. They were to the Cullen's house. My fingers shook violently as I closed my fist around it. Whether or not Alice saw what was happening, they didn't know how much it meant to me. Operating seemed lost on my body for a moment as I sat there, tears streaming down my face but fist clenched around the key as if someone was going to rip it from my hands.

In the back of my mind, I wondered if what I was about to do was toxic and wrong, yet I had to. Getting dressed quickly and still with shaky hands, I grabbed my bag, leaving a note for Charlie, and then headed to my car. I was not going to let myself think too hard about anything or what I was about to do. Instead, I just turned my truck on and took off down the road.

As I drove the familiar path that I hadn't in so long, noises echoed through my head. It sounded like voices or my consciousness yelling at me to turn my car around and respect that distance was what Edward had wanted. Yet, knowing that Alice and Esme had wanted me there, even if they knew they were to never see me again kept my foot on the accelerator. My hands still felt unsteady as I drove away from Forks into the secluded area where the forest seemed to bloom into life.

My chest filled in a way that seemed cold and anxiety filled my bones. My jaw clenched tightly as I entered the path that led down to the house. The trip that used to seem so long seemed to be quickly approaching as I knew I was only a few moments away. Inside, I wondered what Dr. Yales's opinion would be on this sudden venture into everything that had ever hurt me. My mind let the thought sit for a moment before plummeting away as the house came into view.

Unlike every other visit, there were no cars in the drive. None of the windows were open. There was nothing. I pulled into the driveway, feeling like the thundering of my truck was disturbing the peace that had found its way around the house. I stared at the house, feeling like a new person but the same girl who had walked into there with Edward at my side. I closed my eyes, letting myself remember the day that I walked in there for the first time. I had been nervous that they wouldn't like me, yet I found a way to make them love me. Alice had wrapped her arms around me as if I was the sister she knew all along she had. In some way, she had.

If any wish came true, I'd want it to be that one. To go back to that day, to be seventeen and introducing myself to a world that would both hate me and love me. To remember the way that topaz eyes and cold, pale skin felt in the morning when it looked at me. To feel that sense of belonging that slowly formed around me as I spent more and more time with the Cullens. I hardly would even mind seeing Rose after all this time.

Instead of making those wishes over and over in the truck, I got out and walked towards the front door. My feet were moving as if there were land mines hidden under the sidewalk, but I didn't want to disturb anything. A part of me wondered, if one of them came back to visit, that they may sense my being there as I walked towards the door. My thoughts were rolling like waves or thunder, uncontrollable and loud. The key was still snug in my fist as I got to the door, feeling like an intruder but I was given permission. I kept repeating that.

I slipped the key in and opened the door. I waited for something, anything, but there was nothing. Stepping through the threshold, I was greeted with the scent that was now faded but still there. It was them. My throat closed and I had to grab onto the door to keep from falling over or vomiting. As I gathered myself back together, I moved from the door, carefully locking it so that no one else would follow me inside. Not that there was anyone else, but I couldn't help but wonder.

The furniture was mostly covered with sheets, trying to preserve what they had. The pictures on the walls were mostly gone, the cross that had been leaning near the stairway was now nowhere to be seen. While the house had been quiet most of the time, now it was like walking through a cemetery of what was. On the tables, there used to be books that one of the family members was reading or doodling in, but now there was just empty, covered tables. There was no signs of life. Or the immortal life. And it made my stomach churn.

Walking through the house, I think some part of me was looking for another note or sign of some sort. I should have known that the minimal amount would be left for me as I caressed the walls and stared at each corner of the walls. The house was cold, no heat having been turned on due to their absence and the absence of human necessity. I was one of the reasons they would have turned on the heaters once the weather had gone cold, but they were long gone. And so was I, at least, from them.

The stairs moved under me as if I was no longer in charge of my own body. My body was a machine that knew where it wanted to go even if I knew my mind might not be able to take it. Turning the corner, there was Edward's room. The door was shut, as they all were, and I moved slowly towards it. A small, the tiniest part of me, was hoping that he was just sitting on the other side of the door the way he had been. Listening to his music, maybe through headphones, or running out the window to climb trees. Maybe he was even just sitting on the couch, writing better words than I was ever able to come up with.

I opened the door with the slowest movements, keeping my eyes closed because I didn't know how I could even prepare for coping. The door creaked from being out of use and I opened my eyes. There it was. Except, every item that had been there before was there. Nothing had changed. Throughout the house, it was obvious that the members had all taken some of their belongings, just like any other family would do in a move. Edward's room was filled with his music, books, art, and all the tiny pieces of him that he had used to make the room his. I sank to the floor, feeling gravity take better control of my body than I would like to admit.

Hitting the floor, I rested my eyes. In some form, I found an odd contentment in being surrounded by him. It may not be him, not all that I had wanted and wished for, but it was a form of him that I could tangably hold onto. I stretched myself out, laying across his floor and staring up at the blank ceiling. I remember dancing in the room, feeling completely awkward and ungraceful. If I could go back and whack myself upside the head, just to remind myself to cherish the moment.

I laid there. Empty but so full of too many emotions to make any sudden movement or leave or think or hope or cry. Like him, I was able to form my own version of a statue. Laying there with a blank stare, unsure that I could react if the entire house caught on fire and burned me up with it. I realized as I laid there that my eyes were slowly leaking, water running down my cheeks without me having to make any motions. Somewhere I knew that I would rest peacefully if there was a fire, drawing me under with everything they left behind. I was just another item left behind in the dust.

Breathing deeply and slowly, I reached into the bag that I had let drop next to me. The notebook sat waiting, this time silently. It knew that there were thoughts and feelings that were forming that were outside of my control, really. Pulling out the pen, I sat up slowly. Glancing around, I could see the notebooks that he had written in before me, and maybe during me. He had asked me not to look, due to some of the stories being too much for me, and I had already broken a lot of boundaries; I ignored them as I held the pen to paper.

I can't seem to operate here.

You are everywhere and nowhere

The closest thing to comfort I have found

I laying alone in these four walls

Miles away from where I should be

And so close to you

If you were here.

The words weren't great, but it was better than some of the rambling I had come up with over the recent weeks. I closed my eyes and leaned back onto the ground, needing some sense of grounding even when it hardly felt like that would ever occur again. Even if it wasn't perfect, or agreed on by everyone, I was relatively welcomed here by two. And that made the gaping hole in my chest rest a little, the throbbing from a new wound having never gone away began to fade into the background. I could do better.

If I knew how long I spent on the floor, it might be embarrassing. I eventually made it back to my feet and left the room without a second glance behind me. It was all I had to close the door behind me, breathing lighter quickly afterwards. Truth be told, I haven't seen many of their rooms even before they left and I didn't have the heart to break that rule now. I went quickly through the halls towards the other place that I had spent the most time in the house. The room with the piano.

Walking into the room felt like walking into a funeral home, the sheets covering every surface while the sun shimmered in made it feel like a haunted house. To me, it would always reflect something of that no matter how welcoming Alice and Esme left their spirit behind. There wasn't a lot that could be done to hide the skeletons that would never be dead to themselves but only out of reach to me. I leaned against the doorframe, staring at the room around me. I wanted to take it in, to remember anything.

The memories in the room felt like they couldn't fade. In my frenzy, I had grabbed at some of the other items below the floorboards. Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out the CD that Edward had made for me filled with music that came from his hands. He never even truly gave me a chance to listen to all of it before leaving and "taking it with him". In the corner, just like the rest of his belongings, was his CD player that he would bring into the room when we were talking or just wanted to be away from anything.

I remembered the last good day in the room. It was the beginning of August and we knew that school would be coming fast and Charlie's leniency for having me over there would be coming to an end. As I stared at the room covered with sheets as if to shield my eyes, I remembered the day perfectly.

Edward was playing piano and I was perched on the couch next to the window, my eyes moving between the sun shining in to his skin sparkling in response. He played flawlessly, smiling over at me when our eyes met. I stood up, walking over to him and resting my arms around his shoulders, him humming in response.

"When did you start playing?" I asked, leaning against him gently.

I could hear the smile on his lips, "I have a faint memory of my mother wanting me to learn to play the piano. I'm not sure if anyone in my family had but she always wanted to be more than the average man. She wanted me kind and soft compared to the men hungry for war and rage, so she encouraged. After a few years of being a vampire, Carlisle had a piano brought in, mostly for decoration, but I found my hands on it immediately. I suppose it's been about eight-five years now."

I shook my head at his magical, but knew that he had always been capable of anything. He leaned his head back, resting it on my shoulder, "Would you like to hear anything?"

"Surprise me," had been my response and he started my lullabye, his lips finding mine after the last notes rang through the room.

The memory brought me to my knees. It had been perfect and I shouldn't have asked for more. A part of me knew that forever was not possible for me, not with him, but there was very little on my wish list besides that. In a sickening way, a way that I didn't know if I could tell to anyone, I would give him everything the moment he came back. And that's why I would never leave. I might get better, functionally, but I would wait for him.

I grabbed up my notebook, leaving the room as a ghost of sheets, and left the house. It had been several hours and I knew that Charlie would be home. There was enough going on in my mind and chest to keep me company for a while. On Tuesday, Dr. Yales may ask questions that tore against the pieces of my chest that felt recently poked at. Getting in my car felt exhausted as I pulled my limbs into the car, staring back at the house. The key in my pocket gave me a new found ability to give in to my past and I wasn't sure if I was thankful or remorseful for the given seclusion.

My notebook was filling quickly by the time that Tuesday arrived. I took a break from being craned over my notebook, even during my classes during Monday and Tuesday. Truthfully, I couldn't remember much from the classes and they often eased kids back into school so I wasn't too worried. I was guilty for possibly ignoring Jessica when she was trying to tell me about her winter break and the camera that her parents had given her. I wanted to listen, to be the kind of friend that she really deserved, but the words got lost in my notebook instead of towards her.

Now, I sat in Dr. Yales office with my foot tapping vigorously against the floor as she moved around some papers. Because she had such a long trip away, she was having trouble getting all the work together. I wondered if I should leave to let her get herself organized, but she repeatedly told me to wait and that she apologized. There was guilt in me for being a burden, but she was an adult and would send me away if that was what was convenient

"How was your Christmas? Or whatever it is that your family celebrates?" She asked as she sat down, opening up a file that must have been mine.

"It was actually really nice," This was one of the first times I had a complete sentence easily come out while we were conversing. It was reassuring and I knew that she noticed.

"That's great," she smiled warmly, becoming more present in our conversation by leaning forward and resting her elbows on her desk, "There was a lot of good weather considering, or at least that's what some of the receptionists were telling me when I came in yesterday. But let's talk more about you, how is the writing going?"

I bit my lip, "It started really flowing. I don't know what really caused it…but some stuff started coming out. Jake and I went to Seattle before Christmas and we saw this amazing musician. She was just performing in this small, little cafe. Her music was amazing and she wrote everything herself, except one cover. It was still amazing, though. It helped."

"So poetry inspiration is now coming from music? Do you think you'll spend any time delving into that area?"

"Actually, I think so. I have no idea how to begin or where to start. The boys at the reservations were playing some music during the holidays so maybe they can teach me or we can all work together. I don't know. I feel crazy for thinking like this but it sounds…"

"Like a way to make it real?" She suggested and I looked up, realizing that's exactly what I was trying to do over and over again.

"It's hard to make it seem...like words can be enough. It seems like I'll never be able to write what's going on or how I could ever use it to go forward, but I want to. I want to try," I sighed, leaning back and feeling heavy.

"Maybe it is also good to reflect on how you used to feel,"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you are so focussed on making the feelings that you have right, at this moment, fabricate onto paper and into real life. But the emotions that you have right now are so intense, so troublesome, that it makes it hard to make those feelings real when you've never had experience getting them out. Go further back. When was the last time you were really, truly happy?"

I looked down, knowing the exact moment. It had been my birthday, even though that fact was surprising. I hated birthdays but I had everything I wanted, "It was my birthday. I got to spend time with a lot of people I loved."

"Why don't we talk about that?" She urged me in a way that was small and still left me in control about how much I wanted to discuss. My throat was tight but I nodded.

"It was my birthday and my friend, Alice, decided to throw me a party even though I didn't want one. Her and my...boyfriend's family were all there. It was just nice that they cared enough to throw me a get together even if it didn't end well," I remembered the moment, the moment that Edward probably decided to throw in the towel with me, and wanted to hide in my bed.

She rested her hands on her lap and leaned back, not writing anything but paying full attention, "So it ended badly? How so?"

I tried to think of a way to put it that wouldn't be blatantly describing a vampire smelling my blood and fighting against his family to get to me, "It was a misunderstanding within the family. There was fighting and I accidentally got thrown back, my boyfriend was trying to protect me, but he pushed me into a table. There was blood and a lot of bad feelings. It was not a good ending."

"Did they leave after that incident?" She seemed to be mathematically putting together all my pain in that moment, realizing how fast I lost everything and why I was struggling so hard to keep up.

"Yes...a few days later," I looked down at my hands to see them slightly trembling from speaking the truth. It made me realize that I didn't have to say the entire truth to still get out the main portion of what had occurred to me.

She nodded, "And, you spoke of your boyfriend and Alice's family; so they were family?"

"Yes. Alice and...and him, were adopted siblings," His name felt like venom sitting on the inner part of my tongue that I hadn't gained the courage or reasoning to release.

"I see," she continued, "So, in one swoop, two very important people to you left. I recall from previous meetings that you didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Alice before they left. Did your boyfriend say goodbye."

"Yes," I whispered, my hands turning into fists in my lap.

"I'm imagining it did not bring the type of closure that most people would want from a break-up,"

"No, it made the promise of closure. But I've yet to find it,"

"Do you remember that conversation?"

"Very clearly,"

"Do you dream about it?"

"Almost every night,"

"What was said during that conversation? Was it ending on good terms or was it one-sided?"

The question threw me. It hadn't been the worst, but the words had cut through me like knives thrown into the air and magnets on my chest beckoning them to me, "I didn't want him to leave. He was...He is the most...there aren't words. He didn't want me anymore, though. I wasn't fit for him."

She was quiet for a moment, her pen making noises on her desk. My eyes were locked onto my hands so I didn't know if she were staring at me or her notepad, "Bella, you know that is not true, right?"

My eyes shot up to meet hers, confused by her assumptions, "What?"

"I know that people use terms and metaphors to leave people. Men are not always the most clever when it comes to phrasing ways to leave or to say goodbye. But you, Bella, are not unfit for anyone. It may have just been a matter of personal changes and wanting something different," She was reasoning and somewhere in me, I could agree with her. But the hole was too deep and she hadn't known Edward. He could have left any time that he saw fit, but he stayed. There had to be a reason for it.

"There were differences that could have been reached, but it meant a lot of lose or changes for both sides. I know what you are trying to say, but the situation was different. We were different," I felt myself growing defensive, my nails digging into my palms.

"Love is powerful," she was agreeing in a way that irritated me, "It's something that is consuming and when it happens for the first time, it's hard to imagine it ever happening again. I've known people to inherently feel as if that love, whatever one that they have been given, should be held onto because there is nothing after. But there is life after this. There is love. There is beauty."

I sighed, unable to fight the growing fatigue setting into my bones, "The truth is, there are all forms of love in the world. I know. I've seen the best and the worst. It's impossible for me to tell anyone about the love that I had for him. Or how it felt to be in his family or how it felt to know that there was something true to all the stupidity that I had witnessed my whole life. But I don't know how to describe this to you because it's something you may not understand."

"I understand that we are going into some very heavy subjects for you," she began after a moment, the room having grown so quiet that it was hard to believe two people were sitting in it, "But the anger you are feeling is not towards me. It is towards the people who left you. And I believe you should find an outlet to let that emotion out, in a healthy manner where no one would get hurt."

I shook my head, running my hands over my face. I was frustrated because no matter how hard i seemed to be pushing myself over the weeks, no one was willing to see how perfectly irrational the situation was. Edward was not coming back and I was not moving on. Those were two facts that existed accordingly next to each other and depend on each other to exist. The cycle was simple, yet very unhealthy. I was aware. I could live with that. I said I would get better; that doesn't mean letting go.

"Dr. Yales, I am doing a lot to be better. I go out when I can. I have made friends with people that I lost touch with over the years. I am doing what I can to push myself. I am writing and tearing at the pieces that I would have much preferred to leave in the dark. There's a lot of things that I won't ever tell you, frankly, because I made promises. I will do my best to live my life, but I won't be made to feel like what I had was not what it was. I am aware that I am young and adults seem to have an idea that I cannot handle anything because of my age. I was not the youngest one there, though, and I worked very hard at keeping everything healthy,

"I am going to do everything I can. We can write songs and we can go back and find out every little thing that went wrong in my whole life. But I know what I know. I've done a lot of things that pushed limits and I've been hurt. I can deal with the hurt if I knew what I had. If all of this was for nothing, for some crush as everyone else believes, then I can't promise to make it. I can't promise to live a life that is even remotely close to what it would have been. So, please, know that this is trying. And be content with whatever that happened to me was real and it was worth it," My breath left my body in a huff and I wiped my eyes as I realized that tears had gathered in the corners.

She kept quiet, letting me relax back into my chair and let the anger wash out of me. I felt bad for what I had said, but it was the most I had let out vocally in a long time. So many times people looked at me like I was some poor kid who had fallen in love with nothing and had never been loved in return, but I knew better. While I wasn't enough and had to be let go of, I had something special for a moment. And that moment was what I was hanging onto.

"I think that there is a lot going on in you that you don't fully understand. I'm not saying I understand," She raised her hands as if she was in surrender and my face burned with blush as I realize how offensive I got, "I don't want you to hide your emotions. It's important to be angry and sad and all those other emotions that come with moments in life like this. I am only here to help. I want to see you happy, Bella. In whatever form that may be."

We both went quiet and I sat up straighter, trying to gain back whatever weakness I had just revealed but felt comforted by. I liked the fire that had erupted in me, for a moment. It was good to let it out and she was right, I needed to let those emotions run free. After my heart calmed, I spoke quietly, "I'm sorry for going off. You don't deserve that. No one does."

"Hey, Bella," She leaned forward, her hand coming forward and reaching out closer to me, "It's okay to feel. Don't be afraid of it. It's okay. You should let it out in the company of people you can trust. And don't apologize for starting to break that barrier."

I nodded and we ended the session not long after. We never got the chance to open up my notebook to look at some of the words I'd written, but I didn't mind. I needed air and space and to repair the den in my chest that was cracking. After I got into my car, I drove without thinking. Blindly and just trying to get somewhere where I felt safe enough to breathe again. I drove like an idiot until I realized where I was headed without realizing. There was Jake's house before I even knew who I was running to.

I jumped out of my truck and headed to the garage. It was opened and I hope to God that he was there. It was selfish and wrong, but I needed a friend more than anything in that moment. I heard voices and I walked into the garage to see Quil, Paul, Embry, and Seth all pop their heads up. Behind them was Jake, sitting and working on something that I couldn't care enough to look at. He looked up and saw my face. I couldn't imagine what the expression was but he motioned for the rest of the guys to leave before pulling me into the garage.

"Bella? What's wrong?" He was shaking my shoulders and I felt myself crumbling, whatever pieces I had glued together were falling to the ground and so was I.

"He's gone. They're gone," I heard my voice echoing as the sobs ripped through me in waves. He grabbed at me, pulling me into his lap as I felt everything in me collapsing.

"Bella? Bella? Bella, please. Breathe, breathe," Jake's voice was fading around me, feeling like he was being pulled away from me. I lost the feeling in my hands and feet, my vision began to fade out as I panicked uncontrollably in my own skin.

"He's gone and he's never coming back. I can't breathe, I can't breathe," I sucked in air as I felt Jake lift me and then I was gone. There was nothing but darkness and the faint sound of my lungs gasping for air. That was the sound that held me somewhere between existing and being lost in the blackness behind my eyes.

I knew that someone was holding me and I tried to keep comfort in knowing that if I lost myself, someone might find me. It was comforting to lose myself in the emotions that were often being pushed under the nearest available distractions. The behavior was probably growing towards dependency, one that played in the back of my head when no one was around.

The truth in the matter was this; I was not the person I wanted to be or the person I had been before. I was Bella Swan. And that meant that I had lost my way, floating far away from what I could have been. But the scars were too deep and the memory of what had been in my hands still felt too much like mine; too much like something I could never have.

I could never have me back. Under the floorboards, I had not found myself. Instead, I realized, they had taken all of me left with them.

Where do you go when you can't find yourself?


	6. Let's Do It

**Here we go-We are going to really get going now. I can't wait to get to the good stuff.**

**I promise Edward will make an appearance when it's time. **

**Thank you all so much.**

**The Art of Healing **

Chapter 6

**Let's Do It**

The night at the reservation was not my proudest moment and one that I wished hadn't been quite so witnessed. Jake tried to keep me quiet as I sank into the mental breakdown, but my own voice and screams gave me away. Before I was even resurfacing in my body, my dad and Billy were standing over me with terrified expressions. I remembered Charlie's the best. It was like I failed him.

The shame hit powerfully once I was leaning against his police car's passenger window, having left my car behind because anyone could tell that there was no use of me trying to drive. It was a silly ambition I had mumbled repeatedly, but no one gave it a second thought.

The window was fogging up as my breath hit it, my lips parted. I still had a hard time feeling my face or understanding which parts were functioning correctly. There were things that I wanted to say, words that were building up as the guilt set in. It was a childish move; to run to my friend without warning or understanding to cry to him about a situation that was beyond his reach. There was not something I could directly say to him that would make it better. And Charlie has to collect me, like a child that caused a tantrum. My face grew warm.

He kept the radio off, but some of the local police were calling in over the walkie. Charlie ignored most of them, his hands tight on the steering wheel. I kept my body curled away, unable to bring myself to look over at him. The waves of nausea had moved away but it still felt like I was under water.

"I thought we were getting somewhere," he may have muttered so low as to not disturb me or have me respond but I turned my head.

"What?" He looked over as he heard my voice, the hurt in his eyes and my own flaring up.

"I thought you were getting there. I thought you were making friends and keeping them for a good reason and getting the help you needed. But you leave therapy to go screaming at Jake so badly that you faint? I just don't get it. Jake hasn't done anything to you," And I realized, in all of the commotion, he never got an understanding of why I fell on the floor into Jake. Jake might not truly know other than the few words I had screamed while my lungs were trying their best to deprive me of my voice.

"Dad…" I tried to find the right words, "That was not yelling at Jake. I was upset after the session and I couldn't be alone. I worked myself up into a frenzy but the yelling? That was me trying to vent but obviously overreacting too."

He was silent, adjusting in his seat, "What did you talk about today?"

He would not force me to tell him; his voice made that clear. However, I knew I didn't have to and that's what made me want to. This was all, as bad as it would sound to anyone else, for him. If I were alone or older, my days of hiding out after getting the bare necessities done may have stayed at my shelter. It was comforting in that place. Somewhere that wasn't depressing but it was not living.

"We talked about things before my birthday," I paused, watching his expression, "There's a lot of stuff to unpack. It's hard to talk. I just got overwhelmed."

He tapped his hands on the steering wheel, "Is there anything I can do to make this better? Or make your progress easier?"

I thought about it, honestly. I could tell by the look on his face that he wanted honesty presented to him. So, I did, "She has me doing a lot of projects. It'll take time but she thinks that I can get creative. I'm saving up for a piano. I'm hoping you won't mind."

"A piano?" He looked to see if I was serious and I was. I wanted to try.

"Yeah. I'm going to try my hand at a few different instruments, maybe. I don't know if I'm being crazy," I looked down at my hands, my head still dizzy but feeling a bit better with the weightlessness of honesty.

He seemed to be nodding from his seat; the darkness of the room made it hard to really see him, "We'll go shopping soon. Or I'll send you and Jake back out to Seattle to get something nice and what you are looking for."

I looked over at him, shocked and unwilling to let him chase after my hunger for something, "Dad, that would be a lot of money. We can wait. I'm working on jobs anyway. I don't want you spending so much-"

"Bella, I asked you to get some help one way or another. You've done good, kid. Let me help," By his tone, I knew that the conversation was over. I sat in my seat, holding my hands together but feeling a small amount of gratitude fill up my body. There was a lot of sadness within me for a moment with it. It was an odd combination, but one that I was thankful for.

"Thank you, Dad." I whispered under my breath, a small smile curling on his lips in return.

My emotional breakdown was not the best part of my week and I hated myself for causing so much pain to the people around me. It took a moment for me to realize that the breakdown was not necessarily bad. It was just another sign of all the heavy shit that I had churning inside of me like a witch's soup. It was gross to consider or think about, but there was a lot to pull apart.

Charlie had jumped into action with the idea of the piano, but I had urged him to give me a few weeks to make up my mind about the whole idea. He kept reminding me that if I felt it would help that it was worth the money, but I began trying to research so his money wouldn't die in vain. I was waiting for a call back for some applications I put in for jobs and I wanted to give something back or assist with the purchase.

I had decided to go to the Cullen's house and look at...their piano. It would hurt a lot to do so, but I was considering it my own version of exposure therapy. The thought would probably make any sane person laugh; however, there was a lot of ways to cope and I wanted to push myself in any way that I could. I owed it to everyone after the stunt of emotional wreckage that left the group of people around me scrambling. I hated to think of how Charlie has found me so vulnerable over the recent months. It made me nauseous.

It was Saturday and Charlie was at work for the day. School had been back in full swing the whole week, but I had skipped a day or two trying to get myself together. Charlie looked weary but I was more optimistic. I stayed close to my notebook and research of better instruments that I would be able to use and I made it through as many days as I could. As the sun came over the horizon and Charlie's cruiser headed to work, I got ready to head out for the day.

As I was packing my bags up for the afternoon, the house phone rang. I jumped at the noise echoing up the stairs but headed to answer it. The house was spotless at this point because when the sun rose that morning, I couldn't stop to think of anything other than showing my apologies through a clean house. It's probably unhealthy to have looked up "signs of depression" and work actively to do the opposite. However, it felt nice to actively work against all the currents that pulled me back.

"Hello?" I sounded momentarily breathless as I had stumbled twice on my way to the phone.

"Hey, Bella," Jacob's voice rang and guilt settled into my stomach.

My voice got caught in my throat for a moment, forcing me to swallow hard against whatever emotional shame I was holding to speak, "Hey, Jake…"

It was silent for a moment, both of us being caught in the knowledge of everything that had happened. I wasn't one to spill my guts like that. I didn't want to spill my guts like that but the panic had sent me running for anything and everything. His voice came through first and I was thankful, "How are you doing, Bella? I know I should have checked in more but I thought you might need some space."

"Yeah...I needed a moment or two to gather myself up. I want you to know that I didn't mean to show that side of everything to you. It was probably too much to take in and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that," I was spilling words out and I could hear him clear his throat to get my attention.

"Bella, do you think I'm mad?" He asked, confusion in his voice.

I started picking at the magnetic set of sticky notes that was on the fridge, my heart slightly picking up in my chest, "How could you not be?"

He scoffed, "Damn, Bella. I know I have a bit of a temper but I couldn't be mad at you for actually feeling what you need to feel. I've been waiting for something other than blank stares and empty words from you for a while now. You need to get that shit out before it kills you and before you give up on yourself."

I sighed, looking at my feet and the boots that were tightly tied onto my feet, "You want to do something soon? We can...figure shit out, you know?"

He laughed softly, "I'm in. I'm working on some stuff for my dad's friends in a bit, but maybe later on? If Charlie doesn't mind?"

"It sounds great. I'll call you later to make sure," I hung up the phone quietly and I stood in the kitchen for a moment. In the back of my mind, I could only think of that piano sitting there in the window of a shop and the piano sitting in the Cullen's house. The key was heavy in my pocket and I turned to

Irrational as it may be, I had sat for a long time watching videos of how to play piano. I am not one to be able to watch anything and mimic it flawlessly, but it felt as though I may have some inside knowledge to everything going on beneath the keys. I had printed everything out that looked like it may be able to help me and used it as a crutch to try to get through to my thoughts. My mind was everywhere with words and not a decent place to land for some form of release. It was a back and forth run between what I thought I would be able to do and what I knew would take more time than what my emotions were allowing. I was in a sick game that my mind called a show.

When I arrived, I made the motions as I did before. I moved through the house as if I had known it all my life. In many ways, a part of my life would always be in the walls. I hated being the kind of girl that was stuck on this, but I had read that denial was a huge part of this dance I was doing. I tried to live the opposite. By moving through the house, I let my chest fall open to the hurt and the pain. I let it happen. In a way, I imagined that I was stretching out a piece of me that was so tight with tension that any movement felt like agony. In one form or another, it started to feel like it might be somewhat working. But only in this house; only where no one could see.

A lot of me wondered how people got through sorrow. Not the sorrow of losing someone through death or by accident, but by the pain of knowing they didn't want you anymore. How do you look in the mirror with every piece they left in you and still call that person yourself? It was one of the questions I had written down in my journal. How did I not hate the person who couldn't keep them?

I went and sat at the piano, the sheets off and exposing the beautiful texture of it. It didn't seem like something I should have permission to be around. It was intimidating that people felt comfort by sitting where I was, with the power of music in their hands. However, it was the closest I could get to being like them in any way, so I held on anyway.

My hands froze over the keys, each finger twitching with fright but also with curiosity. Could I do it? Was that something that I would be capable of? I liked the idea of trying more than I would verbalize. Wiggling my fingers out, trying to mimic the posture of relaxation that I had seen from _him, _I began to lightly test each key. It was a recognizable after my upbringing that involved more music variety than I could put into words. It was false confidence that made my hands start to relax and become curved around the key.

After a few minutes, I took out the pages that I had printed. They weren't notes, but they were basic beginning steps. It didn't sound like the music that I had heard, but it oddly didn't sound as horrific as I imagined. While the many keys I hit over the hours of sitting there were not to Bethoven's standards, they were not a child hitting angrily on the keys.

I found my body relaxing and becoming more comfortable. It was still frustrating at times, especially when I would get some of the keys right before utterly flopping, but it was something I easily came back from. The house was filled with keys being hit and random grumbles of my irritated and an occasional laugh when I would finish a piece with only ten mistakes instead of thirty.

After a few hours, I got up. I took in the sudden silence and walked over to sit against the wall under the window. The silence was comforting after the music I had tried to produce and I relaxed my head back against the wall. An earlier thought had come back to the forefront of my mind; how do people handle this? I was not the only one who had lost someone like this. My mind settled on Charlie, the way he had yet to seem to recover from losing my mom after all these years. I used to somewhat roll my eyes at the concept of not moving on, but now I was seeing it in myself. I really was his daughter.

Resting my head back, I remembered my mother mentioning to watch for Charlie. In case he had turned to drinking or something worse in the absence of it all. It made me wonder if that would really make it all disappear. It was a concept I couldn't wrap my head around; that something could make someone leave your mind. For just a moment of peace away from them. At the same time, there was no peace in that for me. I didn't want to forget about everything that happened. I needed to remember. I needed to know that I was not crazy. I needed that feeling to be a permanent part of my memory.

But the smallest part of me wondered if it was even possible for my mind or body to let go, even if just for a moment, from the idea of him? The thought of him still made the hair on my arms stand straight and the feeling in my heart grow wide in my chest. Could it really all just fade?

Now that I spent most of the day banging at the piano, I knew it would be getting to the time to hang out with Jake. And I was okay with that, especially after the many questions that were hitting my brain over and over again. I packed up, locked up behind me, and headed back to my house. I was surprised about how okay I was, besides the thoughts in my head, as I was leaving. I didn't feel so much like I was breaking.

I arrived home and put all of my music away. I knew that Charlie would be home soon and I also knew that he wouldn't mind me going over to see Jake. As much as the last event had been a traumatic one, I knew he understood it after we talked. Jake was keeping me together in a way that I didn't know how to explain and I didn't want either one of them to believe that the friendship didn't matter. It did.

I busied away with putting together something for dinner. While I knew he might want to eat it tonight, I made something that was possible to simply put into the refrigerator in case he wanted to come to Jake's house as well. While I was setting the dish full of lasagna into the over,  
Charlie walked through the door. I smiled over at him lightly.

"Hey, Dad," I greeted, closing the oven and setting a timer.

"Hey," He set down a bag on the table and sat down to rest on the chair, "How was your day?"

The exchange sounded oddly formal but I went with it, "It was okay. How was yours?"

"Oh, just the usual idiot stuff that happens every weekend," he stood back up, heading to the fridge and grabbing a soda, "Nothing like those senior getting all excited for the end of their high school life."

"Ah," I acknowledge, leaning back against the counter, "Actually, I was wondering if I could go see Jake? I'm pretty sure I've got everything handled here except for the lasagna but it shouldn't take too long."

"Sure," he agreed, sighing, "What is going on over there tonight?"

I shrugged, "I really don't know. Jake just wants to hang out, I guess."

"He mention Billy?"

"Not really. He only said that he was working on something with Billy's friend,"

"Interesting,"

"Do you want me to just stick this in the freezer for tomorrow?"

"Could you?"

I chuckled, "Yes."

We ended up driving over separately. I reasoned that it was so Jake and I could go to the movies or drive around if we wanted to. Charlie didn't seem to need much reasoning when it came to what I was doing with Jake. He knew that I was safe and it made me wonder how many red flags had happened when it came to Edward. Not that I was unable to understand why, especially instinctually, but he never had much of a reason to until James. Only then did we act out of place, which had been planned and unrealistic. I couldn't imagine how much hate was growing in him towards Edward as the months passed and I was unable to let go.

A part of me acknowledged that my brain had said his name without my whole body convulsing. _Improvement. _

I got there first and walked up to the open garage. He was bent over a vehicle that I didn't recognize with a focused expression. I heard conversation echoing out of the kitchen so I concluded that the friends had yet to leave. I leaned against the frame of the opening and cleared my throat loudly.

He looked up, slightly surprised before relaxing when he realized it was me. However, his eyes were still tight as they looked at me. I figured he was waiting for me to suddenly break down just like I had last time.

I approached him with my hands raised in innocence, "I promise, no mental breakdowns are near."

I thought he would laugh, but his face didn't brighten the way that I thought it would, "That's not all that funny, Bells."

_At least he used 'Bells' instead of something else. _I sighed, "Hey, I know that things are weird and I am stuck in this horrible way. I didn't mean to make it that way. I know we kind of talked about this but what happened the other night was not appropriate in any way."

He scoffed, "Appropriate? Bella, it's not like I am just some stranger that you hardly know. You act like the rest of us can't comprehend that you are hurting and you try to put on this show like you're getting better. And sometimes, yeah, it almost seems like you're pulling the wool over our eyes. But, Bella, you have to stop fooling yourself."

My eyes must have been wide and I kept staring at him like it was foreign to hear him talk like an adult. I knew I had a tendency to match Jacob with my childhood; the pieces of me that existed in Forks long before Edward came into my life. At times, it seemed like that version of the girl did not exist and instead it was just me.

"Jake, I just...I lost it, but I'm working on it," I whispered, feeling vulnerable like I sometimes did in therapy when the questions got too hard to hear or even begin to answer.

"Okay, so lose it. Break down. Fucking punch the walls or hit me. Go running until you can't run anymore. Let's go to some quiet place and scream until our voices are long gone. But stop acting like you can't be human in front of me!" He was getting upset, but he wasn't angry at me. Just the situation.

However, my own emotions were beginning to well in my chest again. It was odd that I was completely aware of what he was trying to tell me and I understood it. If I looked at myself in the mirror, somewhat objectively, I saw a girl that I knew Jake was seeing. It looked like the cars that have duct tape all over them that everyone laughs at because you just need to get it to the mechanic before it stops running. And I was seeing my own mechanic, on the basis of just trying to buy new duct tape; it was not doing everything that Charlie had hoped for. At least, not yet.

"If I keep giving in to falling apart then I won't get back up. I won't. I will just fade into the background and I will seclude and it...I'm fucking trying," I decided to use the same terms he was using, since we were changing the tones, "I feel like I have all these words and thoughts building up and I need to vomit it out but it's not real. It's like I have this cage inside of me and only…..and only Edward has that key."

I sighed, moving to sit on a log that was in the corner. My head fell between my legs and my breath fell out in a gust. He was silent in the corner and tears welled up in my eyes. Breathing deep, I pulled my hands through my hair to try to find some form of gravity in my thoughts. I hadn't heard any other movements until Jake squatted in front of me.

"I don't know how you're feeling, I'll give you that," He sighed, "I've never been in love like...you were. Are. Were. I don't know...but I do know that loss happens and we have to keep going. And, just to be clear, no one is expecting you to wake up tomorrow morning like everything didn't happen and like you feel great. I just need you to fall apart when you feel it so you don't end up in a frenzy and fainting in a pile of tears in my garage."

I laughed, it sounding more like snot coming out of my nose but nothing oozed out, "What? Is that too feminine for a manly garage?"

He finally smiled for the first time since I walked through the garage. He patted my knee and gave a small sigh, "So, what do we do?"

"Actually? Outside of one day ending up a mental ward?" I joked and he shook his head, standing up and walking over to the tool box sitting by the car.

"Yeah, what can we do? When it gets heavy and we need to kick and scream...what do we do?" He sounded genuine and I let myself be honest.

"We write music," I answered honestly.

He looked up and nodded in approval.

"Well, let's get to it,"


End file.
